


like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere

by petasos



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider is Not an Asshole, Fairy Tale Elements, Happy Ending, I promise this all makes sense once you read it, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Magical Accidents, Making Out, Minor Dave Strider/Cronus Ampora, Minor John Egbert/Rose Lalonde, Minor John Egbert/Vriska Serket, Past Relationship(s), Rose Lalonde and Dave Strider Are Not Related, Sex, Sexuality Crisis, Supernatural Elements, Time Travel, Underage Drinking, actually it really doesn't, i'm just putting all of the hanky panky under that tag, just in case, romance speedrun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-12-24 12:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 46,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petasos/pseuds/petasos
Summary: “Prince John opened the door, of course - and what he saw surprised him more than anything. For, behind the door, was a forest. He almost dropped his lantern, but instead, he picked it up, and closed the door behind him. When he looked back, the door was part of a tree, barely visible. And all he could see was the forest, daylight coming through the trees. He set the lantern down and tied his scarf to the tree, so he would be able to find it later, and used his compass to check where he was.”“That’s smart,” said John, cozying up under the covers and yawning. “What’d he find in there?”“There stood a boy, about his age."





	1. and the days were bright red.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMockingCrows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingCrows/gifts).

> Hey, Ryn! I hope you enjoy this fic... I saw you wanted johndave w/ something fairy tale-esque, and while this doesn't quite fit the prompt, it sort of got away from me. I hope you like it, but if you don't, feel free to let me know, I'd be happy to write you something else. I mean, this *SERIOUSLY* got away from me... trust me, I'm sorry.
> 
> Title comes from an R. Siken poem, Scheherazade I think - it's a really pretty poem, FYI. Chapter title also from there.
> 
> I really hope you like this. I put a lot of love into it, and I know some of your headcanons (when reveal day comes, you're gonna be like 'oh shit I know that person'... which, duh, we're both in the same server, obviously) so I tried to go wild with them, or as many as I know of them at least! Anyways, I REALLY hope you like this. As of writing this current note, I'm still halfway through writing the second chapter, but that'll be up before you read it, so I'm super excited to see where it goes NGL.

“Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a young prince, born of Prospitian blood, raised in the palaces of Prospit itself, surrounded by love and joy and freedom. He was the youngest of four children, blessed by fae upon his April birth, crowned in roses and violets and Queen Anne’s lace. Prince John, beloved of his people, heir of Prospit.”

“That’s silly - you can’t be an heir if you’re the youngest!”

“That’s where you’re mistaken, son. You see, in Prospit, the youngest born of the king and queen is the heir, the future ruler of the lands.”

Eight year old John Egbert looked up at his father, his eyes narrowed behind oversized glasses. “But that doesn’t make sense, Dad! Shouldn’t his oldest sibling be the ruler? Um, Princess Jane, right?”

“Alright, alright. Prince John’s eldest sister, Princess Jane of Prospit, was the heiress to the kingdom. After Jane, the twins, Jade and Jacob - or Jake, for short.”

“But Jake’s name isn’t Jacob, it’s Joaquin?”

“Right. Sorry. Prince Joaquin, or Jake for short.” John’s dad sighed, pressing a hand against his forehead. “Anyhow, as John grew older, he became curious of his kingdom, and started with exploring the castle. It was a huge palace, marble and stone, beautiful to behold, filled with many corridors and hallways and rooms. John had a lot to explore, and it took him years to discover every crack and crevice, every hidden doorway and secret little space… all but one. On his twelfth birthday, John decided to go to the library and read a book! And he decided to read…” His dad glanced over at John. “What do you think he decided to read?”

“A book on magic tricks,” John said, grinning.

“Alright, he picked up a book on magic tricks,” said John’s dad, ignoring that, you know, magic tricks probably didn’t need to exist in fantasy realms, but apparently they did now. “And when he pulled the book out of the bookshelf, in the beautiful palace library, the shelf started to move! And when it did, it revealed a staircase, leading into darkness. John dropped the book and, curious, grabbed a lantern and went down the steps, descending into a hallway with a single door at the very end.”

“And he opens it?”

“Prince John opened the door, of course - and what he saw surprised him more than anything. For, behind the door, was a forest. He almost dropped his lantern, but instead, he picked it up, and closed the door behind him. When he looked back, the door was part of a tree, barely visible. And all he could see was the forest, daylight coming through the trees. He set the lantern down and tied his scarf to the tree, so he would be able to find it later, and used his compass to check where he was.”

“That’s smart,” said John, cozying up under the covers and yawning. “What’d he find in there?”

“John explored the forest for a while, before it started to get dark. It seemed empty, but he wanted to know for sure, so when night fell, he returned to the castle and went back to his room. He slept, and awoke the next day, and went back to the library, where he picked up that book on magic tricks, and the bookshelf opened up once more. This time, he was more prepared, with a backpack filled with food and weapons, just in case! What kind of weapons do you think he brought?”

John thought for a moment, pulling the sheets over his mouth. “A hammer, ‘cause it’s useful! That way if he has to build shelter…”

“Smart boy, Prince John.” Dad ruffled his hair. “He brought a hammer and some food. A slice of cake from the day before, since it _was _his birthday, and some apple slices, fresh from the kitchen. No peanuts, because he was allergic.”

“Like me!”

“Yes, just like you. He explored the forest once again, until he came to a river - and there stood a boy, about his age! He had blond hair and wings.”

“Like a fairy?”

“Like a bird’s. The boy didn’t notice him at first, but once he had, he was surprised, and yelled at the boy for intruding on his home! John asked where they were, and the boy was confused, before telling him this was called Skaia. John had never heard of a place called Skaia before, but he spent the next four or five hours talking to the boy, learning all about Skaia, and all about the boy’s people, called Dersites. When night fell, he promised to come back the next day. And he did. And the next, and the next, for the rest of the week. They became friends, and Prince John looked forward to meeting up with his new friend!”

“Did his friend have a name?”

“Hm… how about you pick it?”

“Sprite! Like my favorite drink.”

“Alright. His name was Sprite. Sprite was a strange boy, and the two grew close together. When Saturday came, they met up, and spent the entire day playing tag in the woods. When John left that evening, he promised Sprite that tomorrow, Sprite could come and check out the castle, and he could meet his family. But the next day, John went to the library, and when he pulled out the book on magic tricks… nothing happened.”

“Oh no…” John’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “What happened?”

“Prince John tried every book on the shelf, then every book in the library… but nothing happened. By the end of the day, he wasn’t able to get through. Sad, and disappointed, John went to bed with an empty stomach and tears in his eyes. He spent another week trying to re-open the shelf, but nothing worked… and after a few years, he’d forgotten about the boy he’d once met.”

“But that’s so sad! What about Sprite? What happened to him? It’s _supposed _to have a happy ending!”

His dad shook his head. “Not every story has a happy ending, son.”

“Okay, but _this _one should.”

“Hmm. It’s based off a fairytale, but… Alright. After a month of waiting, the door opened from the other side, and Sprite came out, and they lived happily ever after.”

“That’s just dumb… that’s all tacked on,” John said, frowning up at his dad. He turned away from him, shoving his face in the pillow. Dad sighed, reaching over and rubbing at his back. “They should get a happy ending.”

“Good night, John.”

There was no reply.

* * *

Shit. John shoved his book bag into the chair next to him, pulling out his laptop and plugging it in. This fucking essay was due in three hours, and he hadn’t even _started _on it. How dumb was he for choosing Houdini for his biographical essay, when he couldn’t remember a thing about the guy? He’d known a lot when he was, like, eight, but he hadn’t been into magic in years… it’d just popped up in his mind, and he’d decided to go with it, because every other decision he’d just ‘gone with’ seemed to work out just fine. Not always necessarily fine for him - like introducing his ex-girlfriend, Vriska, to his D&D friend, Terezi, only to find out they were ex-best friends, leading to Vriska dumping him and making off with Terezi to London for the summer… or trying to get Jake into something that wasn’t action-adventure movies and accidentally introducing him to old movies from the 50s that got him hooked on the slang and terminology… or when he’d asked his sister about their Betty Crocker history back in high school and she’d decided to get super into the company again... 

So it wasn’t always the best for _him_, but hey - Vriska was happy and in love. Jake had a new special interest. Jane was pretty much _running _CrockerCorp now, and she seemed to love it.

But yeah. Houdini.

_His brother, Theodore, was also a magician… his real name was Erik Weisz… born in Budapest… named himself after another magician…_

He had two and a half hours left, and his stomach was rumbling at him because he’d dropped his lunch on the way to the bookstore (it had started snowing, and his scarf had caught in the wheel of his bike, and he’d dropped his lunch bag.) Melisande’s Cafe & Bookstore was the perfect place to sit down and make use of the free WiFi (he knew the owner’s youngest daughter, Nepeta, they were in programming together), but he’d already spent his food money on something cheaper. John rested his arms on the table, sighing, before rummaging through his backpack in the hopes there was a stray candybar or something.

Nope.

Na-da.

Nothing.

He closed his laptop, got to his feet, and slotted himself in line at the cafe/coffee shop part of the bookstore. Meulin, Nepeta’s older sister, sat there, twirling a finger through swirls of mint green hair, looking up to smile sweetly at him when he got up to her. “What can I get you today?”

“Whatever your cheapest sandwich is, long as there’s no peanuts - _and _an ice water,” he said, frowning at her. Meulin’s eyebrows cocked up, and she typed that into the register, holding out a hand for the four dollars and thirty seven cents. John shuffled through his wallet, handed her his last five dollar bill, and went back to sit down and wait for it.

Ugh, he just wanted to go home and lay down, maybe try texting Jade or Jake… they were his cousins, but they were _basically _his brother and sister, sometimes more so than Jane herself. Jane was a year older than him, to the exact day, but the differences between the two were a lot larger than you’d expect. Where Jane was interested in baking and business, John tended towards playing piano and pulling pranks - and Jane USED to like pranks too, _before _she’d gotten into college, gotten into CrockerCorp…

He chowed down on that sandwich and finished his essay in record time, hitting send thirteen minutes before it was technically due. Perfect. He was rocking this. King of essays, that was John Egbert. He slumped back in his chair and scanned the bookstore - Dad wasn’t expecting him back until dinnertime, and that was an hour and a half from now, and it’d take twenty minutes to bike back home… so he had time to check out some books.

He packed away his laptop and supplies, threw his backpack over his shoulders, and tossed out the pretty paper plate his sandwich had been sitting on a minute ago, frowning as he surveyed the shelves. Lot of new fiction books… lot of cool looking graphic novels, including something about two guys and nachos… cookbooks and history books and books on religion. There was a Wiccan section that his friend Rose would _die _for, more tarot and astrology books than he’d seen at any of their other local bookstores. He pulled out his phone to text her a picture when a guy pushed past him, and John stumbled back into the wall, bonking his head on the shelf behind him, his backpack sliding off his shoulders.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

The guy glared at him before stomping off, not even bothering to apologize. Shame, ‘cause he had a pretty sweet snake tattoo on his arm that John _would _have complimented had he not literally pushed him into a wall…

John stepped back from the wall, groaning, and leaned down to grab his backpack.

_Bonk._

A book had proceeded to fall right on his head, as books do when someone rams into the shelf they’re on. In fact, once John realized this, he wondered why more books hadn’t fallen. He grabbed the book, velvet-covered with the words ‘magic tricks’ scrawled across it in gold lettering, and turned around to put it back in it’s spot.

Except there wasn’t a bookshelf.

Instead, right behind him, the bookshelf had moved out of it’s spot, revealing a staircase leading down, until inky blackness consumed the stairs. John glanced around him - nobody else had noticed, so… what the heck? He set tucked the book beneath his armpit and grabbed his flashlight out of his backpack, shining it down into the darkness below. A hallway.

A hallway, with a single door at the end.

Something about this felt really familiar, but John couldn’t place it. Instead, he kept the flashlight turned on and carefully went down the steps. The shelf slammed shut behind him, slotting back into place, dust unsettling from the ground. The hallway looked unused - no lightswitch, dust on the floor, dust webs strung from the ceiling (he only knew the difference because Vriska was terrified of spiders.)

He reached the door.

Very plain, made out of wood, as doors tended to be. He jiggled the doorknob, and it opened, light flooding the hallway. Hmm, John thought, and peeked through the crack of light, expecting to find some weird room where a cult was doing business or something.

Nope.

There was a sky. Blue, filled with fluffy white clouds. Grass, mossy green grass… trees, the kind with broken bark coming off and perfect green leaves falling lightly to the ground like in some kind of anime. Ferns, flowers, the whole shebang. John blinked, stepped back, and closed the door. Opened it back up. Same thing: greenery, wind rustling those trees, the smell of pine and earth.

“What the fuck.”

He opened the door wide and stepped out to the other side, glancing behind him at the door. It sat firm in a tree, like the tree had just grown itself around this door… which was really familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d gotten the idea from. Maybe a movie, a book, something Rose or Jade had said…? No, that didn’t feel right.

Hell, John could _feel _the sun on his skin, pouring through leaves, dappling shadows across his arms. He could almost taste the grass, the mushrooms growing around some of the trees. This couldn’t be real. This had to be some kind of dream. He’d fallen asleep while working on his essay, and he was dreaming.

John pinched at his own arm.

And jeez did it hurt.

He grabbed his phone and checked the time - 4:13 PM. Same date, November 13th. Which was weird, since he lived in Washington, and it’d been close to freezing just a short while ago… yet this was sunny and warm, like he’d crossed the continent or something.

Something rustled behind him.

John carefully closed the door behind him, stepping to the side. His shoes pressed into moss, pine needles, grass, tiny white flowers - it felt like that time he’d gone camping with his Dad and Jake and Jade, but that’d been years ago, so maybe he was remembering that but very, very vividly? He’d heard of flashbacks like that, people with PTSD…

Hmm. He pulled off his scarf, tied it around one of the tree branches. Just in case.

The entire forest just seemed too… realistic for it to be a daydream of some sort. There were pine cones, for crying out loud. Pine cones, which he kept stepping on, and they’d crack beneath his feet. There were _birds_! Birds just sitting in the trees, singing and squawking about. Christ was it weird…

The grass was long enough that in some places it skimmed the top of his boots. Someone needed to come out here and cut this, jeez, and the ground was uneven in parts, as he slowly meandered about, close enough to see the tree he’d come out of… and then something caught his eye.

Aha. A trail, well-worn into the earth, lined with stones. That was a lot nicer than walking on grass.

God, was John being an idiot? Probably, but this couldn’t ACTUALLY be real, he was totally seeing things… but Jade would want him to go exploring, and he couldn’t fault her that. If it was her, she’d be exploring right now. She’d be following this trail until she reached the end of it, and then she’d find another one. Jade was born with curiosity and wanderlust in her veins, or so she claimed - Jake was just like her, the kind of person who ran around and had adventures.

He’d always kinda wanted to be just like that.

Why not?

Trees hemmed the edge of the path, crickets happily chirping away… he could hear water trickling, crackling against something, and followed the path until it stopped, just a stone’s throw away from a creek. At least, he was _pretty _sure it was a creek, it looked too small to be a river. John leaned over the clear water, his reflection obscuring some tiny fish and frogs beneath. Mud stuck to his shoes, and he glanced down both sides of the bank, frowning.

No litter.

Something rustled behind him again, and John turned, quickly, but there wasn’t anything there. Not even an animal. Probably the wind, he figured, right until something grabbed his arm.

John whipped around, face-to-face with someone.

This someone was a little shorter than him. Blond (with the kind of hair that looked like he’d just rolled out of bed with it looking like that, wispy and very light in color), wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses, freckles all over his face and shoulders. Pale skin, the kind that wouldn’t tan, John could tell that much already. He didn’t exactly have a shirt on (and he _was _dripping wet), but John didn’t really want to check and see if there was anything below his waist.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the guy asked - he had one of those voices that made everything someone said sound rude and haughty and conceited, like this guy was a know-it-all, and an expression to match it. “How the fuck did you find this place?”

“Uhh, well, I came through the bookstore?”

The guy pushed his shades out of his face, revealing bright red eyes. “I’m sorry, what? There’s no bookstores around here.” He shoved a finger into John’s chest. “Are you high? Are you coming out here to get high? Brought all your little stoner buddies?”

“No?”

“Seriously, dude, what’re you doing here? Also, what the fuck are you wearing? It’s like, seventy degrees.”

John finally glanced down. The guy DID have pants on, thank fuck. Shorts, and bare feet, covered in mud and a little grass. The guy stuck his finger beneath John’s chin and pulled his face back up. “Are you goin’ to answer my questions?”

“Uh… where are we?”

“Dude. Oh my _god_, my bro warned me about people like you. You’re some psychotic drunk, aren’t you? I have a knife on me,” and the guy reached into his pocket, pulling out a switchblade, gesturing at John with it, his face all pinched together. Those red eyes flicked across him, like the guy was checking for weapons on John. Yikes, that was… kind of terrifying? 

John stepped back. “Look, I - I was literally just in a bookstore, a few minutes ago…”

“Okay, psycho. Don’t come any closer.”

“My name’s John!” John held up his hands like that’d help. It didn’t seem to. The guy crossed his arms, which John would’ve expected would cut up his arm with that switchblade, but instead it just rested against his pale, freckled arms. “I’m, uh, look, I have a family!”

The guy laughed bitterly at that. “Holy _shit_, what the fuck is wrong with you? Are you some kind of serial killer? John? Seriously? That’s such a fucking fake name.”

“No! I’m serious, my name’s John Egbert, I, uh, I’m from Seattle, Washington, I’m nineteen -” Why was he telling a complete stranger this, like it actually mattered where John was from, how old he was, what his last name was? All _that _would do would help this guy look him up online.

“Okay, definitely psychotic. This is fuckin’ Texas, dude, look around you. Get your shit together, and get the fuck away from me.”

..._Texas_?

“What? _No_, this isn’t Texas,” John said, and gave the forest a glance-over… okay, maybe it was very warm here, but… “What’re you doing out here, anyways?” he asked, because maybe if he distracted -

“I’m looking for bones, duh. What the fuck are you doing out here?”

“Uhh… like I said, I…” This guy wasn’t going to believe him. “Wait, _bones_?”

“Yeah. For my _collection_.” The guy pointed his knife at him. “‘Cause I’m a serial killer, who collects bones and puts them in jars. And you’re next on my hit list, dude. Seriously, can you go be a psychotic drunk stoner somewhere else? You’re killing my vibe here.”

“You don’t look like a serial killer.”

“Exactly.”

Okay. Distracted… ish. John took a tiny step back, focusing on the guy’s face. “Well, uh, can I get my killer’s name…?”

“I’m not actually a murderer, fucking Christ. I’m looking for bones. I’m an osteology student at the University. Don’t you like, go there?”

“I go to the University of _Washington_, yes?”

“Long way from home. Vacation?”

“No! Like I said, I came through this door and -” John turned for a second, gesturing back at the trail he’d come down. “- I was at my favorite bookstore, doing an essay, and now I’m here. I probably sound insane, but I’m serious! I figured, hey, if this is some kind of Narnia thing, maybe I should explore a little, but -”

“Then you got accosted by a hot Texan with a knife?”

Well, John wouldn’t say _hot_… he wasn’t exactly into men, but if he was, he supposed this stranger technically was his type - light hair, pretty eyes, and a surprisingly nice smile… pretty much the exact opposite of Vriska in coloring, first and foremost. “I know you’re not going to believe me -”

“Name’s Dave,” the guy said. “Dave Strider. You shared yours, I’ll share mine. I’m nineteen, I’ll be twenty in a month, assuming you give a shit about birthdays. God, my bro warned me to never talk to weirdos. Guess I’m breaking all the rules.”

John’s stomach rumbled at that, as if deciding that he was still hungry and way too hungry to care about the fact that this guy had just been gesturing at him with a knife. The guy - Dave - snickered, and gestured at John like he wanted him to follow. “Since you traveled through some kind of wormhole or somethin’, I’d say you can have some of my trail mix.”

“So you believe me?”

“Nah. Not in the slightest.”

Great. This Dave guy WAS a murderer, and he was going to harvest John’s organs. “Then why -”

“Well,” said Dave, “I hate this trail mix. I ate all the chocolate out of it.”

“There’s no peanuts in it, are there?”

“Peanuts? Ew. No. It’s almonds and cranberries and there _were_ M&Ms, but like I said, ate them all. You can’t have my apple juice,” he said, glancing back over at John as he used a few rocks to get over the creek. John followed, watching every step as carefully as possible. “I’m guessing you’re probably a mental health patient who escaped. Or maybe you think you’re in Invader Zim or the Twilight Zone or something. I’ve never actually seen Invader Zim, I’m just _guessing _that’s how it goes.”

Um, John thought, okay then, but he didn’t say anything. Free food was good. Unless, of course, it was poisoned, in which case, that’d be really bad, but he doubted this Dave guy would just poison his own trail mix on the off chance he found someone to give it to…

“So this really is Texas, then?” he asked, stepping away from the creek.

Dave gestured at a blanket he’d apparently laid out on the grass, which John had missed somehow. It was a nice blanket, very picnic-y, gingham or… well, whatever that style of fabric was, he’d spent enough time around Kanaya to know it HAD a name. Dave plopped down on it, sitting criss-cross applesauce and grabbing a half-empty bottle of apple juice out of a backpack. “Yeah, it’s Texas,” he said, before taking a swig. “Where _else _would we be? Miami? No thank you siree, get the fuck outta Dodge before you get your ass whooped. Jeez, this AJ tastes like someone poured their sweat in it.”

“Maybe they did?”

“There’s nobody around here. It’s like, 3 pm on a Monday. Nobody ‘cept stoners and horny teenagers come out these ways anyways - I’ve been both, so I’d know, y’know?” Dave snickered. “I’m expectin’ you don’t got plans to tell anyone that, so like, keep it between us, you dig?” He tossed a ziploc at John, who barely managed to catch it. “So, wanna see my bone collection?”

John cringed a little. Because it sounded like a really bad dick joke, honestly. “Uh, sure.”

“Cool.” Dave rummaged around in his backpack before producing a Tupperware container, snapping the lid off to reveal several mud-covered bones. “This one’s a bird’s mandible, I’m almost a hundred percent sure on that. I think this one’s a rabbit’s parietal bone, and this one’s probably their frontal bone, they were right next to each other. I’m looking for the rest of her skull - I _think _it’s a she, could be wrong. And this big one? Part of a deer’s vertebrae, I’m thinking - gonna have to talk to my professor ‘bout that.”

This is so surreal, John thought - the thick smell of algae and the crunch of the almonds in his mouth, it couldn’t possibly be real. This Dave Strider guy couldn’t be real… maybe John was hallucinating things, or having a _very _vivid lucid dream where he could feel himself get pinched, feel the scratchy grass on his butt beneath the blanket, the heat trying to worm it’s way through his clothes? Ugh, it was _supposed _to be winter! It was below freezing in Seattle!

“- and this one’s a fully intact frog skull, check it.” Dave picked it up and carefully held it over to John, who blinked at him in surprise. “I’ve been here since 4 am, so I’d say I’m doin’ pretty good. Though, _some _of these are a little older.”

“I think I should go,” John blurted out. “See if… I can get back. My dad’s going to be so worried…”

Dave pulled an indecipherable face at that, before reaching up and pulling his shades back down. “Okay, cool. Well, I’m here all week, y’know? Gotta find these damn bones.”

“You say that like you want me to come back.”

“I don’t threaten just any guy with a knife, y’know.”

John found himself smiling. “What makes me special, then?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” Dave said, and flashed him a grin of his own.

* * *

When John made it back to the tree, his scarf was still there - and so was the door. He made it back inside, using his flashlight as a guide, before popping back into the bookstore… only to see that guy from before just rounding the corner away from him. He grabbed his phone, pulled it out, and checked the time.

4:13, November 13th.

“What the fuck,” he mumbled, and glanced down at his boots, still covered in mud. He hurried out of the store and grabbed his bike before Nepeta or one of the other employees noticed the mud, but it didn’t seem to be coming off - it was caked on there like it’d been there for weeks. John slung his legs over the bike and headed home, still processing what the fuck had happened. That… really didn’t seem possible. It couldn’t be possible… right?

No. There was no way he’d somehow found some sort of weird wormhole, or a door to Narnia, or whatever… unless Narnia was Texas and the White Witch was a guy named Dave… no, that had to have been a dream. John pretty much glided down the street, ignoring horns honking and cross-walk lights - it felt like a fever dream.

But it’d felt and smelled as real as the snow on the ground, the sidewalk beneath his tires.

He pulled into the driveway in record time, depositing his bike in the garage before heading inside. 4:45 on the dot, and there were his two favorite people in the whole world (or some of them, at least) - Jade was resting on the recliner, her legs pulled up beneath her and a book on biology sitting open on her lap, notes scrawled across it in green ink. There was Jake, holding a half-empty glass of water, leaning against the wall as he animatedly said something to Jade… but he stopped the second John entered, grinning wide.

“If it isn’t my favorite cousin!” 

“Hi, John,” said Jade, without looking up. “Ignore him, he’s going to try and sell you on the latest scheme he’s gotten pulled into.”

“_That’s_ not true, Jade. Ignore her, John. But, now that I think about it…”

John ignored them both, and pressed into the kitchen, glancing over at the urn on the fireplace. Nanna. God, he missed her. It’d been six years since she’d passed, but he missed her every day of his life… and so did his dad.

But if anyone missed her more than them, it was Jane.

Jane, who was standing in the kitchen, oil sizzling in a saucepan, her apron tied tight and one hand gripping at a spatula. She was humming to herself, something he didn’t recognize - and when he entered, she glanced up, giving a slight smile. “Stuffed spinach and cheese shells with grilled chicken and salad on the side, before you ask.”

“I wasn’t going to. What’re you doing here? I figured you’d be with your girlfriend, or at the apartment…”

“I wanted to come see my baby brother,” Jane joked, leaning over and handing him a spoon. “Taste this.”

It tasted like cheese and spinach. A hint of onion and garlic, maybe. Pretty regular sauce. “It’s good. Also, I’m a year younger than you, I’d say I’m not your baby anything. Seriously, though, what’re you doing here? Is something going on? Jade and Jake are here, too, like…”

“Jade needed a place to study for her test - _apparently _Uncle Jude and Dammek were arguing again.” Jane sighed, tossed the spoon in the sink, where it clattered against the metal. “Too loud for her. Jake tagged along because he’s Jake, and he wants to complain about his latest girlfriend, or something… I think he and Aranea had a fight…?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The awkward part was what went unspoken: first off, that Aranea, Jake’s current girlfriend, was Vriska’s half-sister. The Vriska who’d dumped John for Terezi… which, you know, made for a _super _awkward conversation.

“I’m going to take out the trash,” said John, who proceeded to do exactly that.

* * *

He couldn’t exactly explain to anyone what’d happened, because they’d probably say he was insane. Maybe he WAS insane, but the fact was, it’d felt real, and familiar too… like he’d been there before. John laid in the bed he’d had since he was eight, in the bedroom he’d had for as long as he’d been alive, and stared up at the ceiling, at the glow in the dark stick ons he’d had since middle school.

He’d had a lot of thoughts staring at that ceiling. He’d spent a lot of sleepless nights staring at those stick on stars. Some with Rose laying there. Some with Vriska.

It was almost 2 AM, and he couldn’t sleep.

He grabbed his phone off his bedside table, almost knocking his glasses off it, and opened up Google, typing ‘Dave Strider’ into the search bar. Several results, mainly some mid twenties-something guy who’d directed a movie and wrote a few graphic novels. ‘Dave Strider Texas’ narrowed it down a little, but still, mainly just the one guy.

He opened the guy’s Wikipedia page.

_Dave Strider (born December 1st, 1993)[1] is an American comic book author, artist, and film director. He’s known for the Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff comic series, Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff: The Moive (2018), Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff Maek It Rain Nachos (2019), and the upcoming Geromy’s Big Bareak (2021.)_

The picture of this ‘Dave Strider’ was a blond guy with a pair of shades. A seriously familiar pair of shades.

“What the _fuck_?”

Okay, so _maybe _the Dave he’d just met was a fan, and really liked this guy? John had heard of him, like, once, mainly because Karkat had bitched about his movies to hell and back… they were apparently the kind of trashy films that kids liked, and adults hated. Like the Minions movie, or the Emoji movie…

Except that, according to Wikipedia, this Dave Strider, comic book creator and director, happened to have gone to school in Houston, and graduated as an osteologist, who apparently never actually went anywhere with it, except to apparently dedicate an entire bedroom just to weird bones he’d found… _also _according to Wikipedia.

Okay, maybe it was fake.

Yeah, that seemed right.

Fifty minutes later, when John had exhausted the Wikipedia pages, the Amazon page, and the guy’s barely readable website (seriously, _who _used THAT color text against THAT color background?)... well, this guy seemed almost exactly like the guy he’d just met, only a few hours before. Texan, check. Likes bones, check. Likes apple juice, according to his Twitter feed, check. Aviators, check. Same name, check. Maybe it was a really weird coincidence… ‘cause _this _guy was definitely older than the one he’d just met, and Dave looked way too young to be pushing twenty five. He’d _barely _looked nineteen.

But they looked similar. Maybe they were siblings? This Dave Strider guy had the same freckles, the same pale skin, the same white-blond hair, right down to the shade of it. He even had the same smile.

That made no sense.

But nothing that happened today made much sense… so maybe, just maybe, that bookshelf was a portal to the past? Okay, that seemed unlikely, there had to be an explanation… but honestly, nothing made sense compared to the idea that hey, maybe it WAS a portal, and maybe John had somehow gone time traveling.

He was back to square one, and lying on his bed, with his phone on his chest.

There was only one way to find out.

* * *

Tuesdays at the bookstore tended to be a lull, Nepeta had once told him. She’d _also _told him a lot of facts about matchmaking in history, and how betrothed spouses often fell for each other in the end, and also a shit ton of facts about big cats, but this one he actually remembered. Mainly because for once, John kind of _needed _this information. Technically, he didn’t need anything, but he felt like he did, because this whole situation didn’t make sense.

11:30 am. He’d gotten out of class and rushed straight to the bookstore, eating lunch the way there - he’d pretty much chowed down on his sandwich, applied some deodorant in the bookstore bathroom ‘cause he’d forgotten to at home (thank God Jane made him keep one in his backpack, otherwise he’d smell like a sweaty fourteen year old boy, and he was definitely NOT that.)

It took him a few minutes to find the bookshelf he’d found yesterday - he almost knocked into one of those book displays holding some bestseller’s entire series with some _very _raunchy romance novel covers, but luckily he didn’t knock it over. Some dark-haired girl glanced up from her magazine, sliding the pages together, and smiled at him, so he tossed her a smile back, waiting until she looked away to grab that book on magic tricks. Once again, the bookshelf slid to the side, opening up like a door, and he slipped inside, unnoticed.

Same hallway.

Same door at the end.

He shone his flashlight, making sure his pocket knife was still safely tucked away, and watched the bookshelf close behind him, before heading down the hallway. The doorknob twisted easily in his hand, and he pushed the door to, stepping into the light.

The sound of crickets and birds chirping greeted him, just as expected.

Awesome. It’d worked. He’d actually done it again, gotten here, wherever _here _was.

Same forest. Same trees. Same everything.

Maybe if he was lucky, he’d see Dave again, but he couldn’t bet on it - he _could _hope, but he wouldn’t bet money, mainly because John only had like fifty bucks leftover from his summer job working at a convenience store.

Branches swayed listlessly in the wind, dew-covered leaves brushing John’s arms as he pushed towards the trail, following it until he reached the creek, which bubbled almost excitedly, like it was waiting for him just as much as he was waiting for it. Grinning, John glanced down either bank, expecting to see Dave.

Nope. Nothing. Na-da.

He used a few rocks as stepping stones to get across the water, meandering along the bank and watching the rush of water slip over rocks and pebbles and gravel, watching frogs bounce across the stones. Five minutes passed.

He plopped down on the grass, stripping off his shoes and socks, sticking his feed in the cold water, using his jacket as a cushion. It was pretty warm, surprisingly, so he didn’t actually need the jacket. Instead, he just leaned back on his elbows and stared up at the sky, framed by tall trees, the leaves slowly dropping to the ground. He could probably count the clouds - only four or five big fluffy white ones, one or two little wispy ones.

Ten minutes when he checked his watch. Fifteen.

Maybe Dave wasn’t here. Maybe he’d come too early? Maybe Dave had decided, just in case John WAS a serial killer, that he wasn’t coming back. Well, maybe John was an idiot, because he just had this gut feeling that Dave was safe to be around, like he was supposed to meet him.

John watched a leaf lazily drift into the creek, heading downstream.

Wait.

Downstream.

He wiped off his feet with a paper napkin in his backpack, put back on his shoes and socks, and grabbed his jacket off the ground, wiping the dirt off the plastic-y fabric, tying it around his waist as he followed the leaf. It probably wouldn’t lead anywhere, but maybe, if he was really lucky… and to be honest, he usually _wasn’t _lucky… well, maybe.

The first thing he saw was a duck, just sitting on the water, a pretty decent-sized pond stretching out before him, surrounded by reeds and more tall trees. Crickets, or maybe some other bug, buzzed and hummed on the surface of the pool, and John caught himself grinning when he saw a blond guy standing knee-deep in the water, picking something up to put in a plastic container.

“_Dave_?”

The guy - Dave - looked up, raising his eyebrows at John. “Wow, so I didn’t hallucinate you, huh?”

“Why would you think you hallucinated me?”

Dave waded back to the bank, smoothing down the front of his Ramones shirt. John chewed at his lower lip for a moment - he’d kinda expected Dave to be, well, shirtless? Not that he was disappointed or something, he wasn’t gay or whatever…

“You know,” Dave said, pushing his hair out of his face. He pushed his shades up into his hair too, revealing those really bright red eyes. If John was an artist, he’d call them scarlet or crimson or even downright sanguine, but he wasn’t, so they really were just red, with a little gold around the iris that he’d only noticed because of how _close _Dave had been yesterday… “‘cause you seem to think you’re in Washington, or somethin’. Figured maybe all the weed my bro smokes was finally getting to my head or something, y’know? Jeez, you’re gonna tell the police that, ain’t you.”

“...Why would I do that?”

“‘Cause it’s illegal?” Dave pushed a finger into John’s chest, grinning at him. “Duh. God, you’re so dumb it’s kinda cute. Scratch that, you’re not dumb, you said you’re going to school, right? Did you get in on a football scholarship? I know a dude who did that.”

“Uh, yeah… I’m, uh, pre-med.” Wow. He’d never actually said that out loud to a stranger before, mainly because he honestly didn’t _want _to be pre-med, or post-med, or anything-med. But that WAS why he’d gone to UW, wasn’t it?

Dave raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like a med student.”

“I’m not, yet. I mean, I will be, but I’m not _yet_.”

“Yeah, you come off as more… music history or something. Theology, if I had to guess - you look kinda Jewish. Is that stereotypical? Probably stereotypical, sorry, don’t mean to offend you if you’re not Jewish.” Dave held up the plastic container, laughing, and turned away from him. “Or if you are Jewish. Either-or scenario here.”

“Music history? That’s a thing?”

“Yep. I took a class or two. Still osteology, but I’m minoring in photography, ‘cause it could come in hand, you know what I mean? I did some wedding photography for a friend of mine, she got hitched right after graduation. It was _wild_, man. You think you’ve seen it all, then your friend’s like, ‘hey dude, I got knocked up, and me and Brad want to tie our wagons together before my parents find out I got bred outta wed, mind being my favorite bro and taking some pics? And _not _dick pics, before you ask.’”

John stared at him.

“Look, look, nothing wrong with taking a dick pic or two. I mean, if you know how to use light and angling and shit, you can make yourself look like you got a fucking great dick. I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“That’s… really gross.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dave said, snickering, as he set down the plastic container on the same blanket from the day before. “Lemme guess, you’re one of those guys who’s only gotten a handjob or two in a coat closet or something, only ‘cause you sent a dick pic and she got all pity -”

John’s face heated up instantly, cutting Dave off and making an X with his hands. “That’s _disgusting_. I don’t even know you.”

“So I’m right?”

Dave _wasn’t _right. John _had _dated a few people over the years… Rose, Roxy for all of about five weeks, and Vriska were the ones that stood out the most, but he’d been on dates… sure, John wasn’t the most hotblooded American young man ever, it wasn’t like he had the biggest sex drive.

“It doesn’t matter,” John protested. “That’s gross, I barely know you, I’m not going to talk about my sex life with a stranger!”

Dave actually blushed at that, his face turning a warm shade of pink. John’s stomach made a weird swoopy feeling, and he played with the hem on his shirt.

“Oh, thank god, ‘cause if you started asking me questions, I’d throw this bin at you.” He held the bin aloft, like he was planning on chucking it at John. John almost winced, but managed to stop himself from doing so, plopping down on the blanket. “Anyways, I’m guessin’ you just came out here to see lil’ ol’ me? ‘Cause I don’t know why the fuck you’d come out here, it’s a dump, nothing goes on out here. ‘Cept like, underage drinking, hookups, affairs, murders, smoking weed, doing other assorted drugs… but that’s really only during the summer or like, weekends, so it’s a good place the rest of the time.”

“There’s actually been murders here?”

Dave licked his lips. “Yup. Several. I think my bro committed a couple of ‘em, but I’ve never asked.”

“Uh, what? Your brother…?”

“Actually, he’s my dad.”

“...what?”

“Yeaaah, he doesn’t think I know. He was fifteen when he got my mom pregnant, and she dumped him on my grandparents. I only found out a couple years back. Jeez, why the fuck am I tellin’ you this?” He moved so he was sitting cross-legged, a little more open than before. “You’re all… I dunno. The kinda guy people spill shit to, I guess.”

John blinked at him, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Oh. Thanks, I guess. Uh… I brought you something.”

“Great, it’s poison, and you’re gonna kill me. Well, least I made it this long.”

John found himself laughing, opening his backpack and pulling out the unopened bottle of apple juice. “Don’t worry,” he joked, “it’s not poison. Or piss, for that matter, it’s not even opened. But I figured I owed you for eating your trail mix.”

Dave snatched the bottle out of his hand and pulled the plastic off from around the lid, opening it up and sniffing it. “Oh, you _totally _owe me. You owe me like, eight more of these, that was some expensive trail mix.”

“Was it?”

“Yep. Cost me like -” Dave glanced at the bottom of the apple juice bottle, where John knew the price tag was stuck to the bottom. “- seventeen dollars, give or take.”

“Nobody sells trail mix for seventeen dollars.”

“Oh, they do here in Texas. Yeehaw, fucker, come get your pricey ass trail mix for seventeen fucking dollars, slather some mayhaw jelly on that bitch and call it a delicacy. Dude, you can get trail mix in bulk, you think you can’t get some for seventeen dollars? But nah, I’m kiddin’ you, that was like, two bucks, I bought a plastic bag of the shit and picked out the m&ms ‘cause there were more m&ms in it than a bag of m&ms.”

Huh. That was surprisingly smart. “Why not just eat all of it?”

“And ignore the Strider family values of never eating anything healthy unless forced to at gunpoint? Nah, man. You think I keep in shape by eating almonds and cranberries?”

John glanced at Dave’s very well-toned arms. He was probably joking, because there was no way you had arms like _that_ and ate junk food for every meal and snack, especially not as a college student. John wasn’t exactly the skinniest guy, he’d put on his freshman fifteen already - but Dave, from what he’d seen of him (and he’d seen a surprising amount for someone who was basically a stranger), looked like he worked out a lot.

“Well,” John said, “you’re here to find bones, right? Do you want my help?”

Dave’s eyes lit up. “Hell yeah I do.”

* * *

Several hours and a few breaks later, John found himself collapsed on Dave’s blanket in a clearing near the tree he’d come from, staring up at the sky. Dave was pointing out weirdly shaped clouds, gesturing wildly with one hand as he blabbered on about different types of bones, a handful of rappers John hadn’t heard of, _Kesha _for some reason… John caught himself staring at Dave’s thin, wiry fingers, gesticulating at the sky, zoning out to the sound of Dave’s cool, even tone.

“- and personally, I think there’s nothin’ wrong with taking anti anxiety meds, I mean, all the cool kids do it. Not for getting high or something, I don’t think you can get high off anxiety meds, but call be a fool if I’m wrong.”

“Mhm,” said John.

“I know people take ADHD meds to get ultra-focused on shit, like… hey, if you gotta pop a pill to get your essay done on time, sure, whatever. Do whatcha gotta t’get through school or what not - I mean, I poured a Red Bull into my coffee one time ‘cause I stayed up all night partying after the Superbowl… or was it just a football game? I dunno, but I’m pretty sure it was the Cowboys versus someone, ‘cause my bro Josh, he was like, wearing blue and white and had one of those dumb foam fingers. You know, post-gaming, getting your drink on, whatever. I mean, I don’t know shit about sports, I only watch for the cheerleaders.”

“Mhm.”

“And the commercials during the Superbowl, but everyone likes those.”

“Yeah… I think my cousin likes those…”

He wasn’t 100% sure, but it seemed a lot like something Jake would like. Football wasn’t Jake’s strong suit, at least not American football - he was a pro at soccer, and even had a scholarship because of that. Jake was into football, Jade was a genius with biochemistry and biology, and Jane was pretty much running a company at _twenty_… meanwhile John was a loser who’d only gone into pre-med because he didn’t want to end up one of those guys who didn’t have a good job, didn’t have his own house, and lived in his dad’s basement until he was thirty-something… and he owed it to the could’ve-beens, with Rose. With Vriska.

“So,” said Dave, taking John back out of his thoughts.

John turned his head towards him. Beneath the shadows the leaves cast over him, sunshine dappling his Ramones shirt and jean shorts, the sunglasses pushed up into his hair… John’s stomach did that incredibly annoying swoop again.

No, no, no. John wasn’t into men. Not that there was anything _wrong _with being into men, or anything like that - half of his family and friends were bi, or trans, or gay, or nonbinary… John was just, well, straight. He didn’t like guys. He barely even liked _girls_! Sure, some men were attractive, he could give his discounted hetero opinion on that… but why the heck was his stomach swooping just at the way the light caught on this guy’s eyelashes, how long they were, how nice his lips looked?

He barely knew Dave. He _didn’t _know Dave. They’d spent all of a few hours together total. You couldn’t be attracted to someone that fast… it’d taken him years to start crushing on Rose, and several months to realize he liked Vriska.

“So?” said John.

“You’re like, an attractive ambiguously brown late-teens dude. What’s the romance sitch?”

“Ambiguously brown?”

“Yeah, you know what I mean. You could be anything, for all I know. Jeez, is that racist? I’m sorry.”

It sounded kind of racist, but John was more confused about the fact that Dave was asking him questions about his love life over if that was or wasn’t racist. “I’m Filipino and Mexican, just so you know. Why do you care?”

“About your racial identity, or your love life?”

“Either?”

“I’m just curious. You’re too hot to be single.”

John sat up, grabbing his water bottle out of his backpack. This… well, it wasn’t too soon, Vriska had dumped him in June… so, six months ago. Maybe he was still pining over her a little, but they had dated for a year and a half before she’d left him for Terezi. He couldn’t fault her: Terezi had a lot on him, namely that she was way more Vriska’s type - aka, a woman. Plus, Terezi was gorgeous. Short black hair, russet skin, and she’d had almost teal blue eyes before she’d gone blind in the accident Vriska had lost her own eye in… she wasn’t John, who was a little on the tall-and-heavy side.

But Dave didn’t know that.

Dave didn’t know shit about him.

“I mean,” John said, frowning, “my girlfriend left me for her ex-best friend, back in June, and I haven’t seen her since. They ran off to London for the summer, and… well, I have no clue what they’ve been getting up to.”

“Damn, that sucks. My ex-boyfriend -”

John’s stomach did the swoop again.

“- decided I wasn’t ‘gay enough’ for him.” Dave made scare quotes around the ‘gay enough’ bit. “He said, and I quote, ‘if you still like girls, you might just change your mind and decide you miss pussy over dick.’ Not that we’d gotten that far on a sexual basis, but TMI.”

“Oh,” said John.

“I mean, you’re bi, right? I saw the button on your backpack. You probably get what I mean.”

The… _what_?

John grabbed his backpack, and checked the buttons on it. Dave stared at him, before pointing at a pink, blue, and purple button right next to some of the other ones Rose had put on there before they’d broken up… mostly gothic bands he’d never liked, not that he hadn’t tried listening. “That… that is the bi flag, right?”

“I wouldn’t know, it’s my... uh, my friend put it there. I’m straight… but... she’s bi!” A pause, as something dawned on him, something he hadn’t realized until now. “...Actually, _all _my ex girlfriends are bi.”

“Dude, are you a unicorn chaser or something? Or just… collect bi gals?” Dave cocked an eyebrow at him. “C’mon, I saw you checking me out earlier, you sure you’re not bi? I mean, I’m flattered, it’s not like I got an issue with a hot dude checking me out, but you are a little coo-coo and that’s not my type.”

“Checking you out?”

“Yeah… wait, did I read that wrong?” Dave’s face turned very, very pink in a matter of seconds. “God, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Had he been checking him out? God, John’s stomach felt very, very swoop-y, and he didn’t like it. “You’re... pretty attractive,” John said, shrugging, trying to apologize somehow, make it up to him. “I’m just… not into guys.”

“Oh well,” said Dave, not quite looking at him. “Like I said, you ain’t really my type anyways, I don’t go for crazy dudes who think they’re in Seattle, so it’s not like I was hoping on you being bi as a _date _kinda thing. Jeez, I should shut up. I guess I’m tryna say I was hoping you were bi ‘cause, I don’t know anyone my age who’s out of the closet as anything. There’s a few guys at school who are openly gay, and some lesbian couples who run around being openly queer, but most of us aren’t out of the closet. Probably ‘cause gay marriage just got legalized and shit, but. It was _kinda _refreshing. I know we, like, only just met, but I feel like I can say shit to you that… I can’t to other people, so I figured that was ‘cause, hey, you’re also LGBT. Is that weird?”

_No,_ he thought. _I feel the same way._ “I guess a little,” John said, trying to be honest, and very much ignoring his thoughts on the subject. “But I guess I feel the same, too.”

Dave laughed at that, sitting up and crossing his legs under him. “Cool. Anyways, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be late to class if I don’t go stat, so… I’ll see you… tomorrow?”

“Sure,” said John, “unless I have class.”

“Right. Schedules. I’ll see you at school, then.”

“I don’t think you will.”

Dave leaned over, put his hand on John’s shoulder, and raised one eyebrow. “I’m not falling for the ‘I’m from Seattle’ thing, dude.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll… oh, I’ll prove it to you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to that.”

* * *

He found Dave waiting for him by the creek, wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a shirt that fit him a little too tightly. Dave grinned at him and raised a hand, holding up a waterbottle with it. “Hope I didn’t bring too much, dunno if I’m packed for the several day trip to Seattle, Washington that I’m sure we’re about to embark on. You got teleportation abilities?”

“Uh,” said John. “Not quite. I’ll show you.”

When he’d gotten home yesterday, he’d realized that once again, the time was exactly the same as when he’d left - and he was assuming it was the same on this side of whatever strange portal he was going through to get here. If there were answers, he hadn’t figured that out yet… but he knew that it couldn’t be too weird. It HAD to be scientifically explanatory, because he’d been around Jade enough to know that science was always the answer to unexplained happenings.

He led Dave through the forest, glancing back occasionally to make sure he was still there. It felt a little Orpheus-like, like if he glanced back too much, Eurydice… or Dave, in this case… would just disappear from his grasp.

Except there was no grasp.

Just birds chirping, leaves falling, and wind rustling the branches.

The tree was still there, with John’s scarf clinging to it, the door closed tightly. Dave stepped up to it, jokingly knocking on the wood, before trying the door knob… and watching it swing open. 

“Holy shit. What the fuck.”

“I told you I came out from a tree,” John said, and caught himself laughing at how bugged-out Dave’s eyes were. “Do you trust me?”

“I’ve known you for three days. Of course I don’t.”

John stepped in through the door, raising an eyebrow at Dave as he turned on his flashlight, shining it up at the staircase. “Well, you’re either coming or you’re not.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m coming.” Dave grabbed one of the straps of his backpack and started down the hallway, pushing his sunglasses onto his face, as if that would help with the dark hallway thing. John closed the door behind them both, starting up the stairs with Dave just a step or two ahead of him.

They reached the door.

Dave stopped, squared his shoulders, and tried the knob.

It swung open, revealing light and customers talking, the soft sound of pop music playing over the speakers. John could almost taste the smell of lemon cleaning products, just like it’d been a few minutes ago, before he’d come down to get Dave. He checked the time: only a few seconds had passed since he’d left, so his time theory was about right.

“Do you believe me now?” John asked, stepping backwards and into the bookstore, Dave’s mouth a perfect O of surprise. “Welcome to Seattle, Dave Strider, enjoy your stay.”


	2. another apple to slice into pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from R. Siken, again.
> 
> i solely listened to 'clocks' by coldplay while writing this, which is why it's mentioned in there. also, it kinda fits the fic a little? idk, i think so. i'm finishing up this bit and it's like, 3 minutes away from 12:00 am here, and i wrote 7k in one day (part of that is in the previous chapter) so i'm. gonna go sleep now. work on this more tomorrow. not that you can currently read this bit as of when i'm posting it!*
> 
> (*Note: I did edit this, so. Don't worry.)

“Bro? Can you tell me a bedtime story?”

Four-year-old Dave Strider pulled hesitantly at his older brother’s sleeve. Derrick - or Bro, because Dave hadn’t been able to pronounce Derrick when he was a baby - looked down at him from the paper he was writing on film history. Dave had heard their parents yell at Bro a lot, something about how he was wasting his life away with a film history degree, but Bro would just sigh and pull his hat down over his face. He was twenty-three, fifteen years older than Dave, and Dave didn’t really know a lot about his Bro - he was only really here during the summer, and some holidays.

But he always brought Dave presents.

Bro sighed, glancing at the clock. 9:30 pm. If Dave had known what he was thinking, it would be something along the lines of ‘shit, my parents are gonna kill me when they get home from that damn party.’ “Okay, kiddo. Let’s go get ready for bed.”

Dave let out a little ‘whoop’ in excitement, his red eyes large with interest. Bro helped him into his pajamas, got him a glass of water, and helped him brush his teeth. Dave climbed into his overly large bed and sat there, cross-legged and staring up at his brother.

(He’d later find out that Bro wasn’t, in fact, his brother. But that would be years in the future.)

“Okay, what do you want me to tell you a story about?”

“I dunno,” said Dave, frowning as he sipped at his water.

“Alright. Okay. Fine, I can do this.” Bro laughed, a bit dry. “Once upon a time - you begin ‘em with that, right?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, so, once upon a time, there was this kid named Dave. He was a prince or something. You know, royalty, high class kind of sh - stuff. Grew up with whatever he wanted in life, all the fancy toys and cool clothes and stuff that everyone his age wanted. He was the coolest kid around.”

“Not as cool as his older brother!”

“Okay, he’s got an older brother? Well, _dang_, Dave, why don’t _you _tell _me _the story?”

Dave kicked his legs a little onto the bed. “No! You gotta tell it to me.”

“Fine, fine. He wasn’t _as _cool as his older brother, but they were different _levels _of cool. Dave was cool kid cool, and his older bro was cool dude kinda cool, the graduated-from-being-a-cool-kid kinda cool. He was the sweetest bro in the world, and liked to get his younger bro gifts when he could, ‘cause he loved that kid.”

Dave grinned. “He did?”

“‘Course he did, that was _his _lil’ dude. Nobody could top how _cool _that kid was. Anyways, Prince Dave, he wanted to explore his kingdom, the… kingdom of Coolville.”

Dave probably looked like a bug-eyed freak, sitting on the edge of his bed in excitement, leaning forward so far he could easily fall. “Did he find anything cool?”

Bro opened his mouth to respond, when there was a knock on the door. He frowned down at Dave, and patted the bed. “Stay right here. I’ll be back. It’s probably the ‘za I ordered.”

“Awe, you ordered pizza? Can I have some?”

“You already brushed your teeth, kiddo.” Dave proceeded to give him the puppy-dog eyes, which Bro hadn’t yet developed immunity to, and he sighed. “Okay, fine. You can have a slice, but only if you brush your teeth again.”

Dave grinned excitedly, and watched Bro leave, following him to the doorway and sticking his head out to watch Bro open the door.

“Derrick Strider?” said the man on the other side, and Dave could see red-and-blue lights on the other side. He held tight to his water cup, sipping at it, waiting for the pizza. “I’m so sorry… there was a car crash on Acorn Drive, and… your parents… they didn’t make it.”

Bro didn’t reply.

* * *

If you’d told Dave Strider that the incredibly insane dude he met in a forest while looking for bones to bring to his class’s show-and-tell-and-also-label-it event, he wouldn’t believe you. If you’d told him this insane guy would turn out to not only be sane, but also really fucking adorable, he definitely wouldn’t believe you.

He’d known John Egbert for three whole days, and yet he felt like he’d known him for a whole lifetime, if not longer. Maybe there was just something in the air in the Sam Houston National Forest. Maybe he was the insane one.

“That’s _impossible_. That… is there a camera crew? Is this some kinda reality show?” Dave glanced to either side of the aisle, slowly closing his mouth. Didn’t want to let bugs in. “This… holy shit, this just really doesn’t _feel _real.”

“I know, right?” John - aforementioned insane dude - said, grinning widely at him. He had these weird buck teeth that made him look like a very hot beaver-man hybrid. The fact that it was actually one of his good points was even weirder, like finding out that, hey! You managed to go through a wormhole of some sort! Good going, Dave, you’ve fucked it up big this time, welcome to the Twilight Zone episode 420: Dave Goes To Seattle. “I… like I said, I’m from Seattle, see?” 

And John grabbed his arm and pulled him towards a window, revealing a very large city street, and in the distance, the Space Needle, sticking out amongst other tall buildings.

Holy shit, Dave thought, and also said, right under his breath. “You were _serious_.”

“Yeah, I was. Also, I think time doesn’t work right… I think when we go back to Texas, through that door, you’ll be fine, no time will have passed. I haven’t tested it on both sides, but it works on my side, so there’s only one way to find out.”

Holy shit?

Dave stared out the glassy, frosted window. There was _actual _snow on the ground. It rarely snowed in Texas, and when it did, it pretty much melted automatically, so there went any doubts this was Texas with a greenscreen layered in the back. He could feel the ice on the window. Could see folks bundled up beneath layers of clothes, women with covered strollers, people holding bags and hunched over a little to avoid wind.

This… this _was _real. John hadn’t been lying.

Wow.

“Okay,” said Dave, taking in a deep breath, “so you were serious. I believe you. But how the fuck does that even work? There’s just some door to Sam Houston forest in a bookstore in _Seattle_? And it just happens to lead there, takes less than a minute to pass through it?”

“I don’t know,” John admitted, crossing his arms.

God. If Dave _wasn’t _so awe-stricken by the fact that every weird sci-fi movie set on modern day Earth ever was actually true, he’d probably drop everything and scream. Luckily, he didn’t drop anything. Instead, he found the nearest sofa and sat down, pushing a pile of magazines off to the side. Jesus, did nobody put their shit back after they read ‘em? This wasn’t a library, people, you don’t leave your garbage lying around. Holy shit.

John was just standing there, staring at him. Dave felt like he was going to scream if they didn’t stop playing whatever song this was. Probably some alternative station, since he’d never heard any of these before. “Okay,” said Dave. “Okay. So… there’s some weird ass time-space conundrum... thingy… here. And nobody else knows about it.”

“That I’m _aware _of,” John said, sitting down on the chair facing him. It didn’t look very comfortable, but Dave had no fucking clue, he’d never even been here before! It was seriously fucking overwhelming! Come on, did their in-house coffee shop know how to turn down the blending and grinding, did people know how to type a _little _more quietly? How big was this place, anyways, because it felt so small it felt _constricting_, from the holographic book covers and the customers and the shelf filled with Wicca shit (runes, tarot decks, incense holders, the works.)

Hm.

“Dave… do you want to go back?” John asked, blinking at him, those long sweeping eyelashes brushing against the glass on his glasses. John was way too fucking pretty for a heterosexual dude - no straight guy put that much effort into looking decent on a regular basis, they just threw on some Axe deoderant and clothes that didn’t stink horribly and went around doing shit. John smelled like pine trees and Coca-Cola, that distinct soda smell. He smelled good. Hell, he looked good, like he shampooed and conditioned his hair on a regular basis, like he actually brushed it back away from his face and took care of it.

Fact was, John was _exactly _his type. Dark hair, those seriously lovely eyes - the kind that if you looked into long enough, you’d see the ocean in there, or something poetic and artistic. Dave wasn’t a poet, or an artist, though he’d dabbled a little in drawing. He’d made a few little comics in high school, tried setting up a website for his shit, but it’d never gone anywhere.

And that was the problem. John was perfect. He was handsome, and he obviously didn’t know it, ‘cause otherwise he’d be one of those guys with a girl on each arm. He was also a dork, and a huge nerd from what Dave could tell… though he didn’t know his bones that well, he _did _know math, and he could spatter off random facts about piano music that Dave just stored away for further notice.

He was cute.

“No,” he finally said, after thinking for a good half minute. Thinking, most specifically, about the fact that John was fucking hot, and Dave was maybe developing a bit of an attraction to the guy - and in that case, infatuation probably wasn’t too far behind.

That’d been exactly what happened with Cronus Ampora, the guy who’d decided Dave was too bi for him. And _then _Dave had seen Cronus hooking up with Damara Megido behind the bleachers, so apparently it wasn’t _actually _women he was worried about Dave getting too into, it was just him.

But John was, supposedly, straight. And Dave didn’t know the guy. The guy lived in _Seattle_, for fuck’s sake. Even if he did like him, it wouldn’t work - Dave was the hands-on type.

Why the fuck was he even thinking about this?

“No, I don’t want to. I’ve never been outta Texas, I kinda want to see around here. What kinda shit you got here? You wanna show me around, pretty boy?”

John’s face turned red. “Shush. But, um… okay… how about I take you to my friend Rose’s shop? It’s, well, it’s actually not _her_ shop, it’s her mom’s, but… it’s an antiques shop and a… also more, it’s pretty cool.”

“Sure,” said Dave. “You got like, a car?”

“Uh… shit.”

“Guessing that’s a no.”

“Yeah, I only have a bike… but, it’s only a block from here, if you don’t mind walking in the cold.”

Mind walking in the cold? Shit, of _course _he didn’t mind, he could deal with that, he’d been in the cold before. Sure, Texas was primarily hot, but he could deal with a little icy weather for a block or two. He’d be fine.

* * *

It turned out that it was not, in fact, fine. Dave was so cold he felt like his arms were going to fall off. He was so cold it felt almost hot, and he was pretty sure he was about to die, in Washington, and nobody would ever find his body, and Bro would mourn him for all of a day before deciding he’d probably ran off to Mexico to join a circus or something, and -

John peeled off his jacket and handed it to Dave. “Jeez, you look pitiful, just put on my jacket…”

“W-won’t you b-be cold?” he asked, teeth chattering together, but he pulled on the jacket. It was a little warm, and smelled like John did, that soda-y pine smell. John sighed, and pulled down his sleeves, walking a little faster. He pushed open the door to a glass-fronted shop, gilded mirrors and distressed signs hanging up in the front, displayed nicely. Dave’s reflection distorted in one, showing back a skinny blond guy in a jacket too big for him. Ugh, he wasn’t that skinny.

He hurried inside, breathing in the warmth, potpourri and strawberry scented candles. A blond girl sat at the cash register, her short hair tucked beneath a violet headband, a pair of earbuds stuck in her heavily pierced ears. She glanced up from the book she was scribbling in, smiling a black lipsticked smile over at John, pulling one earbud out.

“Hey, John. Who’s this?”

“This is Dave, he’s… a tourist,” John said, rubbing the sides of his arms. “I wanted to show him around Seattle a little. This is, uh, _Lilith in Starlight’s_ \- Dave, this is Rose Lalonde. Rose’s mom owns this shop, and her, uh, her cousin Roxy works here.”

Lalonde. That sounded kinda... familiar…? Hm.

Dave cast a click glance around the shop - weird masks hanging from the wall, antique cabinets, table displays covered with old cameras and sewing machines and instruments and clocks, all sorts of weird shit. Old music from the 60s played over the speakers, floorboards creaking as Rose walked around the counter to lean against it, gesturing as she spoke.

“So, where’re you from, Dave?”

“Houston. Texas.”

John reached over and grabbed a jar of candy off the counter, untwisting the lid to pull out a wrapped peppermint, popping it in his mouth. “Yeah, he’s… uh, we met online? We’ve been penpals for a little while…”

“Oh. John, before I forget. Would you mind testing out the piano we got? Mom’s been buggering me to have you come over and check it out.” Rose’s face twisted into a frown. “I am never saying buggering again.” She glanced over at Dave, heavy-lidded eyes painted dark purple. “I don’t suppose you mind.”

“Uh, no.”

John grinned, sucking on the peppermint. “Where is it?”

“Follow me,” said Rose, reaching behind the counter and plopping a sign labeled ‘lunch break: be back in 15’ on the counter, and leading John - and Dave - through an almost labyrinthine pile of antique luggage and display tables and grandfather clocks and things of lace hanging off old coat racks. She pushed open a pair of velvety curtains closing off the shop from another room, reaching to one side and flipping on a light, revealing a smaller room with some… weirder things for sale. Someone was burning incense in the back, or maybe that was sage? A few flyers taped to a wall by a cash register, and something clicked across the wooden floor.

“That’s just Mutie,” John said, grinning. “So where’s the piano?”

Rose reached towards the ceiling, standing on her tiptoes, and pulled a string. The room flooded with light, revealing a grand piano pushed to one side of the room. John’s eyes widened, and he rushed over, sitting down on the bright strawberry red bench in front of it. He tapped at one of the keys, a light noise, then another, before he broke out into playing.

Dave had seen people play piano before. Usually it was chopsticks, Fur Elise, the theme from Swan Lake, or maybe Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. People _liked _to show off when they knew a little, even if it wasn’t much at all… but John was playing something really pretty, something he’d never heard before. It sounded bright, lively, almost jazz-ly… the kind of music he could almost hear to his ribs and stomach.

He watched John’s fingers dance across the keys, his top half swaying to the music, and Dave caught Rose’s eyes across the room. She raised an eyebrow at him, sending him a look that pretty much read ‘I know you find this hot, but don’t get your hopes up.’

He couldn’t help it, though. The way John lost himself in the music, swaying, his fingers gliding across the white and black like a skater across ice.

It was _beautiful_. Something some poet or artist or something would find gorgeous, the kind of thing that’d get painted and popped in the Louvre. Fucking beautiful, and Dave couldn’t help but just stare in awe at the way John played, how his hands moved, how he hummed under his breath as the tempo picked up.

Even the song was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He’d probably heard it on the radio before, but he didn’t know where, if he even had… maybe he was just distracted by the way John played.

John finally finished playing with a flourish of one hand, and Rose clapped.

“Bravo, bravo! Wonderful as _always_, John… I’m guessing it does work, then? No fine-tuning needed?”

“Nothing I can think of!”

“What, uh, song _was _that?” Dave asked, leaning over.

“Oh, uh. It’s Coldplay’s Clocks… not my favorite, I like Paganini’s _La Campanella_ better, but I know it better.” John glanced up, sheepish and clearly a bit flustered, biting at his lower lip. “I didn’t mean to show off.”

“Nah, dude, it was great,” Dave said, and clapped him on the shoulder, ignoring the look from Rose. He didn’t even _know _her, yet he felt like he recognized the way she looked at him from somewhere. Maybe it was just something about her eyes, or the way her mouth crooked up a little, but he couldn’t place it.

Not that he cared enough to.

John grinned at him, and got to his feet, giving a bow. “Thank you, thank you. It looks good, Rose, really - I’m sure it’ll sell great. How much?”

“We’re talking about fourteen thousand. It’s a one-of-a-kind parlor piano, built in the 1890s for a Russian couple living in the states, made out of bloodwood and rosewood. Those were actual ivory keys you were playing - and it sounded wonderful, really.” Rose let out a sigh. “Though, I think that might’ve been more you than _just _the piano.”

Dave couldn’t help but agree.

“I wish I could have one like this,” John said, sighing. “I don’t think I’d have the money in a million years, though…” For a second, something flitted across his face, and it hit Dave _exactly _what it was. John didn’t want to be a med student because he wanted to be a pianist… and he was good enough at it that he could easily be in Julliard, so why wasn’t he?

Dave filed that away under ‘Bring Up Later.’

“So,” said Rose. “I do need to take an actual lunch break… I don’t suppose either of you is hungry?”

“I’m fuckin’ _famished_,” Dave said, then covered his mouth. “Shit, sorry - pardon my French or whatever, I’m horrible at that -”

“I don’t think I care,” said Rose, turning away from him. She had a pretty nice butt, actually, and great hips, but the second he started checking her out, she glared back at him like she could just _tell_. “It’s leftover chicken casserole, I hope you don’t mind. My mother made a lot of it, I think she’s trying to get into cooking.”

“But last time she did that, she -”

“Oh, I _know_, John. I’m expecting a third stepfather in a few months. I think this one has kids, so it’s possible I’ll be having some children underfoot. Thank goodness for college, or I’d be trapped here, with children about. Can you imagine me around children?”

“You’d be a good influence!” John said, tone bright. Rose smiled at him, her hand brushing against John’s, sitting back down behind the counter while John pulled two older-looking barstools over.

Okay, so there was _history _there. Like, some serious history.

Dave also filed that under ‘Bring Up Later,’ because there was no way he was letting THAT slide away from him. “What’re you majoring in?” he asked, raising one eyebrow at Rose.

“Ignoring insufferable pricks who wear shades indoors.”

Dave pushed his sunglasses into his hair, and Rose’s eyes widened for a split second before she popped open a Tupperware container. It smelled fucking _delicious_. “No, but seriously.”

“Sociology. And I’m minoring in English literature.”

“She _was _a psych major before, uh, she realized they -”

Rose cut John off with a frown. “Too much Freud in the textbooks. I wasn’t a fan. The sociology curriculum is far more interesting, trust me. I’m the best student, and that’s not me saying that to try and impress you, David.”

“It’s just Dave, actually.”

“My apologies. But, I am the best student.”

“She really is,” said John, grabbing a plastic fork from Rose. “Wow, this _actually _isn’t too bad. I guess your mom really is learning how to cook.”

“Quite bold of you to assume I didn’t add enough salt and spices to make it taste anything _but _bland.”

Dave took a bite, swishing it around in his mouth and trying to suss out the flavors. Two could play at the ‘impressing’ game. “Is that curry?” he asked. “Uh, white pepper? I’m _thinking _cayenne, maybe, but that might be like, chili powder.”

“You realize chili powder has cayenne in it.”

_Shit_. “I mean, yeah, but there’s also garlic and onion in it, usually, right?”

“You’re correct on the curry and white powder. There’s no chili or cayenne, however. Just onion and garlic, and smoked paprika. My mother keeps an abundance of spices at home. It’s good for spell jars,” she added, glancing over at John. “Speaking of which, did you get the tarot reading I sent you Monday morning?”

“Oh, uh. No?”

“Alright. Seven of Pentacles, reversed - distraction, frustration. You need to reevaluate your choices and reassess your resources, John. Wheel of Fortune, upright. Change, cycles, etc. Good luck and good tidings to come. And Knight of Wands, representing a man of action, most often. Represents passion, motivation, energy.”

“How do you remember all this?” John asked, leaning on the counter and grabbing another forkful of casserole.

Rose held up her phone. And damn, that was a thin phone. “I checked my text to you.”

“Oh.”

“You’re a witch?” Dave asked, and glanced sideways at her.

“Yes, I most certainly am. I don’t suppose you want a reading?”

He didn’t believe in tarot.

John’s eyes widened and he leaned forward, nodding excitedly.

“Sure.”

Rose pulled out a drawer beneath the counter, taking out a velvety drawstring bag and opening it up, revealing gold-leafed cards with black art, turning them onto their faces and shuffling the deck. “Seven-day spread, or perhaps just three? I usually do one for the week, but John prefers three for his week in total.”

“Three sounds good, then.”

She pulled out one, set it facing down, then shuffled and added another, then a third, before turning the first one upright. “Strength, reversed. Self-doubt. A lack of self confidence, vulnerability. You’re lacking self assurance in your life at the moment. Prone to lashing out, perhaps. It could represent someone in your life.”

The second card. “Ace of Swords. Represents the potential for success, new ideas. Now is the right time to start a new project, and you’ll do good at it. This could be the start of a new chapter in your life, so don’t squander it.”

And the third. “Two of Cups, reversed. A need for self-love, largely, but it can also represent a lack of communication, or an oncoming breakup. Balance is broken. Two forces repel each other. Resentment, imbalance.”

That all sounded like shit, but Dave didn’t say a word - clearly Rose, and also apparently John, believed this crap, so maybe it meant something. Not something to him, that was for sure, but it meant something. Rose put the cards back into line, popping them in her little drawstring bag, and looked over at him, like she knew he didn’t believe a word she’d said.

Because he didn’t.

* * *

“Tomorrow,” Dave said, “I want to show you around somewhere in Texas that isn’t a forest.”

They were sitting inside the bookstore, Dave beside John as he went over his homework, sighing as he flipped through a book on advanced algebra. John looked up at him, leaning forward, his eyes practically glowing behind his glasses. “I’d like that. I’ll try to get there around noon, okay? I got class all morning.”

“Sure.” He sipped at the lavender-and-vanilla-flavored coffee he’d gotten at the bar. It tasted like shit. The doodle he’d drawn on his napkin was better than the coffee, and it was _also _shit. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” John echoed.

“What’s the deal with you and Rose?”

John pressed his mouth together, letting out a nearly derisive snort. “She’s my ex girlfriend. We met online when we were both ten, and her mom ended up moving here from New York to be with family, and we met in person… we went to the same middle school, and the same high school, and I asked her out freshman year. We went to junior prom together, and homecoming, and we were, uh, together for a while, before…”

“Before what?”

John swallowed, looking down at his book. “We got tipsy, slept together at prom, I... forgot a condom. She, uh, she missed her period. I promised I’d be there for her, but… she didn’t want a kid. Neither of us did, to be honest. We tried to stick it out, but we both had a lot of differences, you know? It was a mutual break up, and we stayed friends. Hell, we’re better off friends. She’s got a girlfriend now, and they’re _seriously _happy together. And I met someone else in senior year. Rose… she’s my best friend. I can’t imagine not being her friend.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. My dad wasn’t too happy with me.”

“I… can imagine.”

He couldn’t, but when he’d found out Bro - Derrick - was his _dad_, he’d been pissed as fuck. He’d thrown a vase, and blamed it on Cronus breaking up with him. Had it been bad luck that he’d found out about Cronus and Damara the same day he’d gone home and found his birth certificate buried in a folder labeled ‘important’? Probably. Bro’d been an impulsive, immature, incredibly reckless and careless fifteen-year-old who’d gotten some woman pregnant. He had her name on file, and he’d tried looking her up, but he couldn’t find an ‘M. L.’ anywhere (probably because those initials were pretty slim pickings), and he’d _looked_. He’d spent a _lot _of time looking.

John took a deep breath, pained and steady, and reached over, putting his hand on Dave’s arm. “Even if you can’t, means a lot that… well… that you aren’t judging me for being careless.”

“Dude, you were a _teenager_.” Dang. Maybe he needed to keep that in mind with Bro. Ha. “I don’t think anyone can blame you for accidentally knocking up your girlfriend. Besides, you… I’m guessing she got an abortion?”

“Yeah. And honestly, it was the best course of action,” John said, and he actually grinned, scratching at his forehead. “We would’ve been horrible parents as teenagers. I mean, I think most teenagers would make shitty parents… but I still had acne. Parents shouldn’t have acne.”

“Ha, yeah, dude. I can’t even imagine you with acne.” Dave’s stomach felt all clamped up, like he’d eaten something he shouldn’t have. He took another sip of his latte. Maybe lavender and coffee weren’t horrible together. “Can… I ask why you’re doing pre-med if you’re so damn good at the piano?”

“Oh,” said John, chuckling, nudging at Dave’s shoulder with his elbow. “It probably wouldn’t make good money, let’s be honest… I’m not THAT good. I’m not _symphony _good, you know? Med school… that’s what I’ve been planning on since I was in my junior year.”

“When you were dating Rose? Lemme guess, you want to go into pediatrics.”

John stopped chuckling. “Wow, got it in one.”

“I’m not dumb,” Dave said, finishing his doodle and using the napkin to wipe off a few beads of coffee dripping down the side of his cup. “Guilt, I’m guessing, but I dunno, I’m no therapist or anything. I could be completely off.”

“You’re not,” John admitted, setting down his pencil and turning towards Dave. “You’re not wrong at all.”

* * *

Dave’s Bro was sitting on the couch when he got back to their apartment. He slapped his car keys down onto the kitchen counter, setting his backpack on the barstool. It, apparently, had been no time at all since he’d left, so he’d spent the four hours he had left before he needed to go home driving around, sitting in a McDonalds and drinking a really crappy Sprite, and watching dogs at a nearby dog park.

In other words, as far away from home as he could.

“You smell like cigarettes,” Dave said.

Bro grunted, taking a swig out of a beer can. For a thirty-six year old, Bro acted like he was a lot older, like he’d already had his midlife crisis and moved on. Dude was pretty jacked, but he’d mostly let that go, put weight into his stomach and gotten pretty much a dad bod. When he wasn’t at work, or sewing weird puppets, he tended to lounge around smoking and drinking beer while watching bad horror films.

Dave had seen Bride of Chucky _way _too many times.

“You know those can give you cancer, right?”

“I’ve been smokin’ ‘em since I was fourteen, Dave. If I’m gonna get it, I already got it.”

“You _could _quit while you’re ahead.”

Bro glanced over at him. “You smell different.”

“Yeah, I went out with a friend.”

“Which friend?”

“Nobody you know.”

“Bullshit, I know all your friends.”

“It’s a new friend. We met in one of my classes.”

“Which one?”

“Math.”

“Bullshit, you never pay attention in math class.”

Dave sighed, and opened the fridge door, grabbing a beer of his own and popping the lid open. “Maybe that’s how I met him. We bonded over our shared hatred of math, and how fucking dumb it is that you gotta add letters to the numbers.”

“I’m callin’ BS.”

Dave took a swig of the beer. Cheap, and disgusting, but it’d do. “Call whatever you want, Bro.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking that.”

“Are you gonna stop me?”

“Go do your homework or somethin’, I’m tryna watch TV.” Bro held up his cigarette and blew out some smoke. “Jeez, kid, don’t you got better shit to do than run around shopping with friends, or whatever the hell kids do these days?”

Another swig of beer. God, it tasted horrible. Tasted like piss. “Go see movies. Concerts. Egg people’s houses. You know, same shit you did as a teenager. That was only like, eighteen years ago, dude.”

“Eh, shit changes. That was, what, the nineties? I can’t fuckin’ remember. I was going to school back then. You lose knowledge when you quit learnin’. Don’t do what I did.”

“You dropped out of school to raise your baby brother when your parents died.”

“Okay, sure. You know what I mean. Don’t do drugs, don’t drink, don’t do premartial sex, yadda yadda yadda. That’s what Mom and Dad would’ve said, at least. Bet they’re laughing at us up in Heaven, if they _managed _to make it there.” Dave sat down on the arm of the couch, and Bro glared at him, sighing as he snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. “They weren't exactly the _nicest _people, Dave. Hate to say it, but they were pretty shitty folks. Bet they ran when they met their maker.”

“You don’t believe in that shit.”

“Nah, I don’t, and anyone who does is an idiot, and a hopeful fool, thinking being a ‘good person’ is gonna save you from eternal damnation.” Bro shook his head, took off his baseball cap. “That ain’t how it works, and you know I’m right.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I only had one,” Bro said, and held up the can and shook it. “And a half.”

“Are you high or something?”

“Nah. I’m just right.”

Dave sighed and took another drink, downing the rest of the can in a fell swoop. He set it down on the coffee table, moving to sit down next to Bro. Maybe he’d been an idiot, spending the past two years hating him for being such a shitty dad. He wasn’t even _trying _to be his dad, he was trying to be a good guardian. A good older brother.

“I know you’re my dad.”

Bro laughed, bitter and smoky. “You found your birth certificate.”

“Yeah. Like, two years ago.”

Bro’s shoulders slumped, and he leaned back against the couch cushions. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“‘Cause I hated you.”

“I don’t blame you. I’ve been a shit dad.”

“Yeah, you have. But you’ve been a decent brother.”

Bro snorted, balancing the can in his hand. “Nah. Our - _my _parents would’ve been pissed, seeing me like this. They’d be pissed ‘bout the tattoos, the drinking, the smoking, managing construction work _and _making smutty puppets for people. Their god-fearing eyes would’ve lit up like hellfire.”

“I don’t remember them. Not really.”

“They died when you were four, kid. Can’t blame you. Hell, wish I didn’t remember ‘em. They took everything I did as a sign I hated ‘em. They died hating me.”

“I don’t think they hated you,” Dave said, and reached over, grabbing his bro’s - his dad’s - hand in his. Bro’s shoulders slumped at that, the can almost tipping into his lap. “I don’t think any parent hates their kids. Maybe they do. But I don’t think they did. Maybe they were disappointed, but dude, I’d be pretty disappointed if my kid came home at fifteen and told me they knocked up some chick.”

“Hey, if you’d come home and said you did, I would’ve whipped your sorry ass.”

“Exactly. But… I don’t hate you… dad.”

Bro laughed so hard he dropped the can, spilling it all over his lap and the couch. “Jesus, don’t call me that. It’s Bro, or Derrick, or Strider, or ‘that fucker.’ Not dad. I ain’t your dad, Dave. I’m just your sperm donor. I don’t wanna be your dad. I’m a fucking shitty dad.”

“Yeah, dad sounds a little weird anyways…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll always be an only child. From… my side at least, dunno ‘bout your mom.”

Dave crossed his arms, leaning against the couch like a lifeline. “What was she like?”

“A real fireball. Feisty as hell. Acted like she had the answers to everything. And what she didn’t, she could figure out lickety-split. She had A’s in half her classes, and barely passed the others, and I was pretty much in love with her from the second she acknowledged me. Wasn’t popular, neither was I, but we got high together, drunk, y’know. Dated for four months before she showed up in the middle of the night with a pregnancy test, waved it at my face, and said she was gettin’ rid of it. Bad decision to come to my place, ‘cause my mom came by, heard the conversation, and got all protestant on her ass. Said there was no way she was getting an abortion.”

“Do I... look like her at all?”

“You got her smile, and her freckles. I never did have freckles. You get your inability to tan from her, that’s for sure - she always got flaky skin if she tried to. And those eyelashes, that’s Meli alright.”

“Meli?”

“Yeah.”

And Dave spent the next hour and a half asking questions about his mom, and then fifteen minutes staring at his reflection in the mirror, studying every inch of his face, his shoulders, wherever he could reach, trying to see his mom in him.

He couldn’t find a trace of anything that wasn’t Bro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact Time With Your Anonymous Gifter: originally Dave was from 2009, but I ended up editing it so the age difference wouldn't be as weird. You've probably realized there's a time travel component by now - if not from the mentions in the previous chapter, definitely the tags, lmfao.


	3. dress them in warm clothes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guessed correctly - title is from R. Siken's Scheherazade, once more.
> 
> God, each chapter gets shorter and shorter! The first one was 9.6k, the second was 5.4k I think, and this one's just 4.1k if I remember right. Jeez, though, that's a whopping 20k total at the moment... am I okay? No. I'm just writing this until it comes to a good ending. Also, it's weird that this was originally going to be 2 chapters, then 3, and now it's going to be five as of writing this a/n. Holy shit, dude, I know jack shit about my limits.

When John Egbert was thirteen years old, he decided that he wasn’t really a fan of fairy tales. In complete honesty, they were sort of boring. The knight always saved the princess, the princess always woke up from her deep slumber, the dragon was always brutally slayed. It was always the exact same thing, with different names and different colors slapped onto it.

“They should be way more interesting,” John told Jade, sitting on the couch and watching their cousin, Jake, play Madden on the X-Box. They were at Jake’s mom’s place. Aunt Joey was John’s aunt, via his dad, but technically he was only _half _related to her, because Aunt Joey and Uncle Jude were Dad’s half siblings from his father’s side. “Like, why does the wolf always get cut open to rescue the grandma and Red Riding Hood? Why does the little mermaid always get her voice back?”

“Actually,” said Jade matter-of-factly, grinning at her cousin, “in the _original _Hans Christian Anderson story, the little mermaid was in a lot of pain any time she walked, and she also didn’t get the prince, and she also died.”

“Oh. Seriously?”

“Mhm! Weird, right? You should look at Grimm’s fairy tales, or the Blue Fairy Book or something. Try reading something a little less Americanized, John!”

“Fairy tales are just boring,” said John.

“Well,” said Jade, and she kicked off her shoes, curling up on the couch like a sleepy dog, “some of them are, but some of them are really fun. Did you know that in the original Sleeping Beauty, she had twins, and then the prince’s step mom turned out to be a troll or an ogre or something, and wanted to eat the kids? And in the Grimm version of Cinderella, the stepsisters cut their toes off and then got their eyes pecked out by birds!”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm.” Jade grinned, glancing over at Jake, before leaning forward. “And in the original Snow White, she just had an apple stuck in her throat.”

“Oh,” said John, who was a little bit surprised by that. “So she choked to death?”

“No, I think the prince performed the heimlich maneuver on her.”

“Huh.”

And they went back to watching Jake play Madden football, where the team his friend Roxy had created - the Seattle Kittens, decked out in pink and purple - kicked the Dallas Cowboy’s butts.

* * *

Just like the previous day, John met Dave in the forest. This time, however, Dave was leaning against a tree right when John pulled the door open. Dave… kinda looked like shit, wearing the same outfit from the day before and a hoodie around his waist, tied in a bow-shape. Which was weird, considering John hadn’t even realized people _could _tie hoodie sleeves in a bow shape.

“Hey,” said Dave, and his voice was a little hoarse.

“You look like crap,” said John.

“Hangover. I drank way too much last night. Kinda told my bro that I know he’s my dad.” Dave sighed, and took a sip from his water bottle. “I’m good to drive, though. Just don’t shine bright lights at my shades. Or talk too loudly. Or… play music. Actually, just try not to do anything, really.”

“Right.”

Dave winced, and took another drink of water, this time a very large gulp down of it. “I’m thinking, like, where to take you to. There’s this ice cream parlor I used to go to a lot, there’s a pretty sick bowling alley, or we could go to a car wash and eat donuts while my car gets cleaned off. Up to you, dude.”

“Bowling alley,” John said, without a second thought. It’d been years since he’d last gone bowling - of course he wanted to go. Who didn’t want to go bowling? Well, maybe people who physically couldn’t, but that was understandable. “Let’s go to a bowling alley.”

Dave nodded and motioned for John to follow him, meandering through the forest until they got to a stone path that was far larger than the one John had found that first day, ferns and moss growing on either side. Dave stepped carefully over a patch of very pretty red flowers, reaching out his arms to keep balance. John snickered at the way he teeter-tottered to either side before righting himself on the path, before hopping onto the path and brushing off the front of his jeans.

They walked for a few minutes in complete silence, John just behind Dave. Dave’s phone was sticking out of his back pocket, which looked embezzled with sequins and tiny gems and the like. Maybe they were girl’s pants?

“So, you told your d - bro?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d he take it?”

Dave stopped mid-stride. “I think he suspected I knew. I dunno, I didn’t ask.” The way the leaves flickered over him made Dave look like something fresh out of a movie set, red hoodie tied around his waist, his shirt hiked up a little - John could see a tiny sliver of pale skin, but he’d technically seen Dave half-naked, so… why was that making his stomach feel so _weird_?

“So you just, got drunk and told him?”

“Actually,” said Dave, “the getting drunk part came after.”

John sighed, and followed him on the trail, watching Dave walk for a few good moments before they reached the head, the path spilling out into a small parking lot. A beat-up pick up truck sat off to the left, red paint scraping off, and John headed towards it before Dave laughed and grabbed his arm, a little too hard.

“Where’re you going?”

“Uh, isn’t that -”

Dave rolled his eyes, and gestured at a dark red Impala. “Nah. That one’s mine. Dunno why you’d think I, of all people, would pick a _pick up truck_ of all things, but hey, I guess I get it. You think I like piece of shit cars ‘cause I’m a piece of shit.”

“I didn’t say that -”

“Dude, I’m teasing you.” Dave took off his shades, clipped them to the front of his shirt, and leaned against the car. “It’s a 2010 Chevy Impala. It’s my baby, you know, like cars are babies to people or whatever. I’ve taken good care of him, trust me.”

“I thought cars were girls?”

“That’s sexist. Also, was Lightning McQueen a girl? I don’t think so.” He took a set of keys out of his pocket, dangling them so they caught the light, before heading to the other side of the car and opening the front door, sliding in. Jeez, did Dave seriously have those fuzzy dice hanging from the front? That was… really weird, but when Dave unlocked the car door and leaned over, opening the one where John was standing, he didn’t hesitate to climb in.

Dave grinned, starting the ignition, and messing with a few buttons. John technically knew how to drive, he’d passed the class he’d taken, he HAD a driver’s license… but that was back in the summer of ‘16, he could barely remember it. The car rumbled to life, and Dave put his hands on the steering wheel, slowly backing out of the parking space. Within a few moments, they were speeding out of the parking lot, past a wooden-and-brick house sitting off to the side and a wooden sign that read ‘Welcome to Sam Houston National Forest, Enjoy Your Stay!’ in big, bold letters.

The road was pretty empty, the clock on the car reading 12:31. Everyone was probably busy eating lunch, John supposed, staring out the window and watching trees pass them by. It was nice, honestly, the AC blowing, leaves falling off the trees and hitting the ground as they drove past. He could even see signs of actual civilization, houses ahead of them, and -

“_SHIT_.”

A squirrel ran across the road, and Dave swerved a little, almost going off the road.

John’s stomach flipped sideways, and he grabbed at the door, breathing fast while Dave righted the car. Shit was right, John could barely fucking breathe.

Dave pulled off to the side of the road, gasping for air. “M’so sorry, Jesus Christ, I didn’t even -”

“It’s fine,” said John, even though it was very decidedly not fine, he felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack, or maybe a heart attack. “Are you okay?”

Dave nodded, adjusting the mirror. “Yeah. I’m fine. Christ, I’m so sorry. Jeez, my horrible driving skills almost got you killed or something. Hooooly shit. That would’ve been real bad.”

“Well, nothing actually happened, Dave, it’s okay!”

Dave grabbed his water bottle and downed the rest of it. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. I’m just flipping out over here. I didn’t even see that fucking _rat_.”

“Squirrel.”

“Same thing. Squirrels are just rats with charisma.”

John had never heard _that _one before.

Dave checked the mirror before pulling back onto the road, sighing over-dramatically and keeping his hands tight on the wheel. His knuckles were turning paper-white, but John didn’t say anything. Hell, he wasn’t sure what he could say, aside from ‘hey, it’s okay, we didn’t die!’

They passed houses, then shops and bigger buildings, before Dave pulled into one of those outdoor mall-style areas, putting the car into park and getting out of the car. John watched him for a second, then Dave made his way to the other side, opening John’s door with a flourish of one hand, laughing. “Your highness.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“You were just sittin’ there, dude. I kinda had to.”

John rolled his eyes and got out, glancing over at the buildings in front of them: movie theater, bakery, an Irish pub with a four-leafed clover stuck on the window called ‘McGuire’s.’ Hell, there was even a pawn shop and a little pet store with a blinking sign that made it look like the dog on it was wagging it’s tail. And, yep, a bowling alley, sitting dead-center. Les Miserabowls, surprisingly literature in name. The one where John lived was named ‘Strike Kings,’ which was pretty boring compared to that.

The air was decently cool, and Dave pulled his hoodie off, sliding his arms through the sleeves.

“Are you… cold?”

“Dude, I’m not from Washington. I’m from Texas. What do you think? This is cold to me.”

“It’s like, barely 50 degrees?”

“So? Like I said, Texan here. Yeehaw country doesn’t get much in the way of cold air, we’re in the south.” He rolled his eyes at John and headed towards the bowling alley, opening the door for John, who rolled his own eyes and stepped inside. He could already hear balls rolling and pins clattering together, One Direction playing over the speakers. Dave headed up to the counter, plopping a twenty dollar bill on there, making the red-haired woman sitting there jump in surprise. “What size shoes you got, John?”

“Uh, seven and a half.”

“Size seven and a half, and a size eleven, then.”

John glanced down at Dave’s feet. Huh. They were kind of big. Maybe Dave had a future as a clown… if his time travel theory wasn’t right, and Dave didn’t _actually _have a future as a comic book writer/movie director… hmm.

The woman at the counter sighed, popping her bubblegum, rung him up, and opened the cash register, handing him back a ten and a couple ones before getting to her feet and retrieving two pairs of bowling shoes. “Welcome to Les Miserabowls, have a good time,” she droned, and sat back down.

“Jeez,” said Dave, turning away from her. “College students, am I right?”

Someone cheered off to the side, ball striking, and John sat down, taking off his own shoes and replacing them with the rentals. He had to admit, it was a decent bowling alley - multicolored lights dangling from the ceiling, that 80s-style plush black-and-neon carpet, wooden aisles and comfy looking leather loveseats filled with a surprising amount of people for a Thursday afternoon.

“Okay, so it’s three dollars and fifty cents per game. That gets us like - well, forty-five minutes, maybe an hour’s worth of bowling. The food here’s expensive, but it’s greasy as shit, and they got the best fucking fries this side of the border - LM’s probably the best bowling alley in Houston, maybe even in Texas - it’s not the cheapest, there’s one a few blocks from my apartment that’s like, two for shoes and a dollar fifty per game on shit days like this, but hey. Better expensive and good than… cheap and not.”

John nodded along. “That sounds good to me.”

“Great,” said Dave, “‘cause I have no clue what else we’d do, so. Let’s do this.”

“I’m going to kick your ass.”

“No way in hell, Johnny boy.”

* * *

Two games, a six piece set of mustard-flavored wings, two things of fries, and three and a half Pepsis later, John sat inside a surprisingly nice little ice cream parlor while Dave ordered them milkshakes. He liked their choice of lamps; they looked like ice cream cones dangling from the ceiling, down to the coloring and little cherries on top. This place had a lot of sweet food, and John’s stomach was still rumbling. Sundaes, cream sodas, ice cream, milkshakes, waffles, coffee… they even had some really weird toppings, like bacon and wasabi and crushed gingersnaps.

Soft, upbeat music played through the near-silence - they were the only people in here, aside from the two people at the counter. Aside from them, it was just Dave and John. Just Dave, John, and the ice cream people. For some reason, it felt way more intimate than the fact that they’d been hanging out in a forest, void of other people.

Maybe because sitting at this two-person table, smooth lime-green top and cutesy pink chairs, it felt like a date. Hell, not only did it feel like a date, it felt like something two people would go do on a first date: bowling and ice cream. All of John’s first dates had been pretty simple - a movie and sushi with Rose, a comic book store and Chinese with Roxy, pizza and arcade games with Vriska. His first kiss with all of them had been on a first date, and John’s stomach fluttered at the thought of Dave setting down only one milkshake, two straws, the two of them re-enacting some 50s teen daydream.

Dave sat down, sliding an oreo milkshake over to John. His own was toffee, apparently, with chocolate swirled on top, and it looked really good. Maybe he could ask if -

_Jeez, John! You’re not gay, or bi, or any of that. Stop thinking about Dave like that, you barely know him!_

“I saw the little thing you drew earlier,” John blurt out. “Yesterday, I mean, while we were at the bookstore. It was really good.”

Dave’s face flushed. “Thanks, but I’m a shit artist.”

“Well, I liked it.”

“Ha. You’re only sayin’ that ‘cause I bought you ice cream.”

John took a slurp from his milkshake. It was pretty much the texture of concrete, but it tasted good, so that was worth it. “No, I’m not. I’m saying it because it’s _really _good, Dave. You… you’re a really good artist! Don’t doubt yourself.”

Dave looked away from him, awkwardly smiling. “That means a lot, dude.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Fine, fine, I’m a fucking awesome artist. Nobody’s art’s as bomb as mine. Picasso who? Move over, Monet, Dave Strider’s here and he’s gonna kick your ass with his mad art skills. Dave Strider? More like, the van Gogh of 2014.”

..._2014_?

John had known something was up, but… he’d kind of been assuming that Dave was just a fan of this other Dave Strider guy, the director/comic book dude. He’d… kind of been hoping so, so maybe they could exchange numbers (hell, why hadn’t they just done that in the first place? It seemed really dumb thinking about it now… he hadn’t even considered it, how dumb was that? And he was supposed to be Gen Z, the generation that couldn’t get off their phones.)

“Dave, can… there’s something I should tell you.”

“Huh?”

John paused, glancing at his milkshake. “You said it’s 2014, right?”

“Well, duh.”

“Uh… look, I know you probably won’t believe this, but… it’s 2019 for me. Almost 2020, actually, ‘cause it’s November and all.”

Dave blinked at him, face covered in disbelief. “I don’t believe you,” he said, and picked up his toffee milkshake.

“So you can accept a wormhole, but not…”

“Okay, okay, fine. Prove you’re from 2019.”

“Uh, our president sucks?”

“Why the fuck would you say that about Obama, dude? He’s the best president this country’s ever seen.” Dave’s eyebrows knit together, and he tilted his head. “Wait, is he not president?”

“He only had two terms, Dave.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Lemme guess, it’s Clinton?”

“Uh…” Dave didn’t need to know, actually. “Y’know what, let’s just, move on past the political stuff… I don’t think it’s that important… look, I’ll bring you a newspaper tomorrow, or you can come with me when I head back and I’ll show you, but I’m serious!”

“So you’re… from the future.”

Uh. Okay, then. John _was _from the future. Wow, he could tell Dave a lot of stuff, like how to win the lottery, or who was going to win the next few football games, or… well, he couldn’t tell him that. He just couldn’t. “I guess so,” he finally said, frowning, and taking a drink of his milkshake instead of saying anything else.

Dave just stared blankly at him, like he couldn’t figure out what to say. Maybe he couldn’t. It wasn’t as though it mattered, was it? John was kinda, well, from the future, and Dave was here, in the past, and even if he _wanted _to consider Dave a friend… it wasn’t like they could really be friends for long. Eventually, life would catch up to them. John had school, so did Dave, they had lives!

They couldn’t just hang out every day, even if they wanted to.

* * *

After class that evening, John went straight home, and collapsed on the couch, staring at the popcorn ceiling. The house was quiet, save the ticking of the clock in the kitchen, barely audible from the living room, where John was pretty much crushing all the super soft pillows with his back and arms, ignoring the homework he needed to do. His brain just felt like static, fogged up and colorless, every word he wanted to say meaningless.

Maybe he’d just re-organize his bedroom.

He clambered up the stairs, dropping his backpack on his desk, and sat down at the foot of his bed, going through the books on his bookshelf. Books he should’ve gotten rid of a long time ago - magic tricks, origami, dictionaries and thesauruses, an encyclopedia of human anatomy, the Green Fairy Book… he snatched that one off the shelf, flipping through it. _The Enchanted Snake_… _Rosanella_… _The Crystal Coffin_… how many times had he read these? Jade had gotten this for Christmas when he was thirteen, and he’d read through it like it was the literature equivalent of sugary candy. He hadn’t wanted to put it down. He’d wanted to know how the Fairy of Beech-Woods would mess things up, or fix things… or if anything would happen to the prince’s horse in _the Golden Mermaid_, if things would be okay for the three children in _the Three Dogs_.

It’d made him interested in fairy tales for the first time in years.

And, flipping through it, that was exactly when he remembered why this whole situation felt so familiar.

_And when he pulled the book out of the bookshelf, in the beautiful palace library, the shelf started to move!... descending into a hallway with a single door at the very end… behind the door, was a forest… there stood a boy, about his age!_

But… hadn’t that story his dad told him, when he was a kid, ended badly? Hadn’t, after a week of meeting the boy, the prince been trapped on the other side of the door, never to see his friend again?

But that was a story. A bedtime story, more specifically… that couldn’t be real. But then again, none of this could be real… and if Rose hadn’t seen Dave too, he would probably be sitting here wondering if he was insane, hallucinating up a friend ‘cause he missed Vriska so much, or something along those lines. It just didn’t feel real, but none of this did, and he was starting to wonder if maybe… well, _maybe _the story his dad had once told him had actual meaning.

Even if it made no sense.

Even if…

The door downstairs slammed shut, and John jumped in place, dropping the book onto his lap. He got to his feet, re-shelving it, and headed downstairs, checking to see who it was - his dad, hanging up his coat in the hallway, taking off his fedora and setting it on the hat stand. Dad headed into the kitchen, and John followed, sitting down at the dinner table while his Dad set down some groceries. He simply smiled at John, hazel eyes meeting blue, and John smiled back, feeling a little relief at his dad being home.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Son.”

“You know you can call me John, right? It’s what you named me.”

“Technically,” said Dad, smiling at him as he unloaded the groceries, “it’s what your mother named you.”

John and Jane’s mother was a sore subject in the house, mainly because the last time anyone had seen her, she and Dad were yelling at each other at Thanksgiving, all the way back when John was three. He didn’t remember a thing about her, except that both he and Jane had inherited her blue eyes, and also her penchant for getting herself into trouble. When he was six, Jane had told him, in a very secretive voice, that she thought their mom was married to someone else, somewhere else - someone she’d cheated on their dad with, and ran off to be with in another country.

It seemed grossly romantic to John, at the time, mainly because he hadn’t realized what cheating was.

Dad didn’t date. He hadn’t since their mom had disappeared, and while Jane, John, Jade, and Jake had all attempted to set him up with random women (and men), nothing had worked. They’d given up, assuming he was still in love with his ex-wife, but they had no clue. For all they knew, he just didn’t like romance.

“Why do you call me son?” John asked, frowning.

“Well,” said Dad, putting an orange juice carton in the fridge, “because I feel like it’s important you be reminded that you have a family, and you’re very loved.”

John’s chest felt very warm.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, and Dad held up a box of hamburger helper, setting it on the stove and turning towards the cabinets. John watched him pull out pans, the necessary ingredients, put it all together and put it in the oven before heading into the living room.

John didn’t follow.

* * *

“So,” said Rose, “you think that Dave is from the past, and that on… Saturday? You’re going to lose the ability to ever see him again. You genuinely think that you’ve been going to Texas through some sort of supernatural portal, meeting someone who is now a famous director, screenwriter, and comic book creator… and you might be crushing on him?”

“I didn’t say that last bit, you’re putting words in my mouth.”

Rose sighed, sitting down on John’s bed and taking off her ballet flats. “You said he was surprisingly attractive for a man… twice. And that he grows up to be a little more attractive.”

“_No_, I said that he’s kind of handsome. I didn’t say _that_.”

“Intricacies aside,” Rose said, and leaned over, stripping off her hosiery, “you really think that there’s some sort of portal to the past in the Leijon’s _bookstore_.”

“No, I… I don’t think so. I went there. We went bowling. In Houston!”

“Hmm,” said Rose, and she leaned back onto John’s bed. He was sitting at his desk, trying to ignore the fact that he’d just spilled his entire gut out to Rose, and very much trying to focus on his biology homework, but noooo, he’d just had to admit to Rose that he’d been sort of going into the past to see a guy. A guy who was JUST a friend. “Well, I believe you.”

John looked back up from the biology homework. “You do?”

“Well, I at least believe you believe you’re… time-traveling. I’m not quite sure if it’s true myself, but I’m a skeptic, John. I don’t believe anything willy-nilly.”

“You believe in psychics.”

“I _am _a psychic. Divination and time travel are too very different things. Divination is rooted in science, time travel is not. My cards always come true, remember?”

He did. John remembered, both fondly and forlornly, that they _were _true, every single time. She’d predicted he would meet a girl that he’d fall for - and a few days later, he’d met Vriska. She’d predicted that she’d break his heart, too, and she did.

Rose could easily predict things, and it terrified him. But he trusted her, and he trusted her tarot cards. If she said something was likely to happen, it _was _likely to happen, and he believed in her.

“Okay, you’re right… but…”

“I think what’s most likely - and hear me out here, for a moment.”

John turned towards her, spinning his chair to face her.

“I think it’s astral projection,” Rose said, completely straight faced. “Time travel seems unlikely, but astral projection? You’re simply projecting yourself backwards, and when he comes through here… he’s projecting himself forwards. I think, and this may sound strange… the two of you may be tied together, in some way. Perhaps twin flames, or karmic soulmates.”

Soulmates? John’s face heat up. “No. Definitely not.”

“Soulmates _can _be platonic, John. Don’t be homophobic.”

“I’m not! I just don’t like _guys_.”

Rose gave him the secret sort of smile he’d come to hate from her, like she knew something he didn’t. “Yet you surround yourself with queer people. I’m bisexual, Kanaya’s a lesbian, Roxy is bi, Jade is pan, Jake is bi… the majority of your friends are queer, John. Usually, people find themselves surrounded by folks of the same stroke.”

John stood up, and walked over to the bed, collapsing on it and burying his face in the closest pillow. Rose rubbed at his back, laughing quietly, before he looked back up at her. “But I’ve never liked guys.”

“I feel as though Nicholas Cage and Matthew McConaughey would take offense to that statement.”

John groaned into his sheets. “They’re both good actors!”

“They’re… really not, but whatever helps you sleep at night, John.”

In complete honesty, Rose had a point. He’d been obsessed with Cage and McConaughey from puberty, watching every movie he could find with either actor in it… even the shitty ones, though _Failure to Launch_ was still a really good movie minus the incredibly contrived ending. And, well, if he had to admit it, he HAD found them both kind of handsome… he’d just never said that out loud.

And if he thought about it more, maybe she really was right. Maybe Dave _had _been right with his assessment. When Karkat had asked him out in high school, after he and Rose broke up, John had turned red and stammered out a ‘I’m not gay’ before hiding in the bathroom for the next period, until Jade had to come and find him. Hell, he’d even outright said that if Jake wasn’t his cousin - and if John liked guys - that they’d probably be perfect for each other!

“Oh my god,” he mumbled. “I’m _bi_?”

Rose snickered. “It took you long enough. Nineteen years. I’ve been waiting for the past, oh… seven years for you to say those two words to me.”

Holy shit.

He was bi.

He liked guys.

John Egbert liked guys.

Logically, he knew nobody in his family would care - the majority of them were in the same boat - but he immediately felt guilty, like he couldn’t just tell Jade or Jane or Jake, or even his dad. Maybe they’d judge him. Maybe they’d hate him for taking this dang long to figure himself out! What if they did? What if they…

Rose was rubbing his back, and he relaxed into her touch.

“You need to quit worrying so much, John. It’s okay. Nobody’s going to hate you for figuring out you’re into men _and _women. In fact, I’m sure they’ll just be happy you’re opening up to the possibility, and realizing things about yourself.”

“Do you think so?”

“I do. Now, what are you planning to do about your friend?”

Shit. Dave. He’d forgotten about the whole pre-sexuality crisis conversation, and now John’s stomach felt like Rose had dropped a bomb in it. A bomb that was going to go off in about two days, and explode, and leave Egbert remains all over Seattle. That, or a very large rock.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “He’s my friend… I think…”

“Well,” said Rose, “if he’s your friend, then you need to figure out a way to keep him around.”

“I think I’ve got an idea…”


	4. all this, and love too.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title ALSO from Scheherazade by Richard Seiken. Why is this poem so good???
> 
> I like to call this fic, "wait, but you said you _weren't_ going to write porn???" I changed my mind. Also, I never said that to anyone!!! I was going to write a little bit!!! I just didn't plan to do it yet.
> 
> Also, woot, broke the pattern of writing less than the previous chapter. This one was 7k something.
> 
> See end notes if you don't want to read the porn. Porn starts precisely after _“I don’t mind at all,” John said, and pulled his underwear down._

By seventeen years old, Dave figured he had his life figured out. Or, well, he _assumed _he had it figured out - nobody truly knew where they were going in their life at age seventeen, now did they?

But his life plan was very simple: he’d go to college, become an osteologist, get a job at a museum of some sort, study bones, meet a nice guy/girl, move in together, and die at the ripe old age of 67 and a half while drunk. To be fair, this exact plan wasn’t the best formula, and it would take him time to realize that, but it wouldn’t take him that long.

By seventeen, Dave had figured out that he wanted his life to go a certain way, and there were very specific circumstances that would get him there.

His current boyfriend breaking up with him was not one of them.

“Look,” said Cronus, “I’m _sorry_, babe, it’s just… what if you decide I’m just not good enough for you? I don’t got the same parts as some chick, you dig me? I want a man who’s not at risk of changing his mind. It’s just, you might change your mind an’ decide you miss pussy over dick!”

“...are you, are you fuckin’ breaking up with me ‘cause I’m _bi_?”

In retrospect, Dave would look back and see this conversation coming a mile away, but at the time he honestly thought they were happy. Hell, he was even going to propose they get past mile marker 2 and hit the next milestone in their relationship - namely, doing more than giving each other frenzied handjobs while sitting on Dave’s bed and almost violently making out, or awkwardly grinding against each other... while _also _making out really fucking fervidly.

(He’d even bought flavored condoms for _safely _blowing Cronus, because Bro hadn’t taught him sex-ed for him to turn around and ignore it! Like, jeez, he was pretty fucking excited for moving up in said relationship!)

“Well, when you put it like _that_,” said Cronus, who proceeded to laugh awkwardly, “I guess? Look, doll, it’s not you, it’s me, really… I just don’t wanna get cheated on.”

Dave could feel the tears springing up in his eyes, and his throat felt clogged up, so instead of speaking he just held up his hands and flipped Cronus the bird.

Cronus looked pissed.

“Suck my asshole, Ampora,” Dave hissed, and walked away from him without bothering to look back.

And, when two days later, Dave walked in on Cronus and Damara Megido making out and basically banging behind the bleachers on a Friday afternoon, he ended up sobbing in the bathroom while reminding himself that a biphobic asshole like Cronus, who apparently wasn’t _actually _biphobic and just didn’t want to be in a relationship with a guy who took four weeks to put out, didn’t deserve his tears. He was a single independent man and _he _didn’t need a stupid asshole boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or… anything. He was going to swear off love and become like Megara from Hercules, minus… Hercules.

And it was a nice reminder, until he found his birth certificate, and didn’t see his parents’ names on it. Instead, right where his dad’s name should’ve been was ‘Derrick Strider,’ and a blacked out name where his mother’s should’ve been, just the initials M. and L. printed on the paper.

Dave proceeded to throw the nearest vase at the wall, where it shattered into (guesstimately) two hundred and thirty six pieces. He would, of course, blame this on his asshole boyfriend dumping him to go dry-hump Damara Megido, when Bro asked him why the fuck he’d broken a fifty dollar vase.

That was not at all the truth.

* * *

“It’s just dinner,” John said, and Dave looked at him skeptically.

“This sounds like a ‘meet the parents’ situation, dude. It’s your entire family?”

“Well,” John said, shoulders slumping like he’d been caught in a lie. Even though he hadn’t technically lied, far as Dave could tell. “My cousins, my sister, and my dad…”

“That sounds like ‘whole family.’”

“Well, it’s_ not_… ‘cause my uncles and aunt won’t be there!”

Dave let out a groan, glancing away from John and at the textbook he was perusing, open-faced on the table. “Look, no offense, but how’re you going to explain me to ‘em? Say I’m some guy you’re courting? You don’t even like dudes, and I’m not gonna lie and say I’m a trans woman or something.”

“Well, I’d tell them the truth! You’re my friend.” John smiled a little absently at that. “And, look, my dad always lets me have some wine, and it’s the expensive stuff, _and _I convinced him to get apple-flavored wine. So… maybe just come over? Give it a try?”

Dave sighed, resigned to the fact that apparently he was going to go chillax at John’s place whether he wanted to or not, and apparently eat whatever John’s family ate… which, from what little he’d garnered, seemed to mainly be actually _healthy _foods. They, apparently did not live off of fast food, doritos, microwavable popcorn bags, soda, and apple juice. Jesus Christ, what did a guy have to do around here to get a decent meal that wasn’t chock full of multicolored veggies and weirdly seasoned meats?

Okay, so maybe Dave did like the occasional nice meal. He _liked _eating home-cooked meals, but he hadn’t had one in a ridiculously long time. Hell, last time he’d had anything close to that was a frozen thing of lasagna he’d gotten at the store, fucked up, and watched as it exploded in the microwave while Bro laughed and told him to clean it up.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll come. But don’t go expectin’ me to be the nicest guy you’ve ever brought home, okay? ‘Cause, dude, I dunno _why _you want me meeting the family -”

“They’re just important to me,” said John, grabbing the textbook from Dave’s hands. “Jeez, how much is this thing?”

“Uh, twenty bucks or something. It’s a high school textbook.”

“Then why’d you pick it up?”

“The cover looked cool,” Dave replied, shrugging. It _did _have a guy skateboarding over the ocean while dolphins jumped next to him. He was pretty fucking certain that people didn’t take skateboards out to the water, they used surfboards, but hey, whatever got teens to pick up the book. “I wasn’t even really reading it.”

“Oh,” said John, who set down the book. “Look, it’ll be fun, I promise. I really think you’re going to like it. I can even ask Jane to… cook something you’d prefer? Uh, I dunno what kind of things you like to eat… I think she’s planning on making shrimp and pasta, or maybe steak? It might be French onion soup… I’d have to ask. You don’t, uh, have any allergies, do you?”

“No.”

“Cool! That’ll give her more to work with.”

He smiled wide enough to show off those big ol’ buck teeth, and Dave’s face felt like someone had lit a fire beneath him, burning about as hot as a volcanic explosion on the verge of erupting and sending magma flying everywhere, burning him to his bones. Jesus Christ, John made his entire body feel hot and weird, and not in the fun sexy kinda way that flirting with someone hot or jerking off gave him.

Maybe he was just tense, from lack of said jerking off. He hadn’t had enough time to sit down, open up a porn tab, and fondle himself while watching two people go at it on the screen. Not that it was that realistic, but hey.

“I think,” said Dave, who was starting to feel a little more cooped up in his clothes than he should while sitting in a bookstore in Washington, in what was apparently (according to John) the future, “that I’m gonna go grab a coffee.”

“Oh, could you get me a latte?”

Dave sighed, and nodded, grabbing his wallet and heading up to the front. The girl sitting at the coffee bar looked up at him, smiling wide enough to make Dave’s eyes twitch beneath his shades. “Hi! It’s you again,” she said, high-pitched voice grating on his ears. Her name was ‘Nepeta’, according to the nametag, which was a little on the weird side but not as weird as the cat-themed beanie she was wearing over her reddish-blond hair. “Same thing as last time?”

“Latte. And a cappuccino.”

“Size?”

“Uh,” and Dave glanced back at where John was sitting, scrawling something in a notebook, “medium for both.”

“You’re John’s friend, right?” she asked, ringing him up. “That’ll be six fifteen.”

_Was _he John’s friend? Probably. By all logic, he was. He hung out with John on a daily basis, even though it’d only been about four and a half days now since they’d met. And yet, he felt like he’d known John for a lifetime. He felt like he’d known John for his entire life, like they’d met before they’d even existed.

“Yeah. I’m his friend. I’m visiting from Texas.”

“Oh! My mom’s from Texas,” said Nepeta, making a lot of noise behind the counter before she handed him two coffee cups, complete with sleeves. “John’s _really _nice, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“We go to the same college,” she said, and leaned forward. “He’s in my programming class… he’s not the best, but he’s the person you want to go to if you need help with Java. He’s really smart, but I bet _you _know that already.”

The way she said ‘programming’ sounded a lot more like ‘purrogramming’, but Dave didn’t point that out. Dave took a sip from the cappuccino, almost pulling a face at how bitter it was. “Yeah, I do.”

“And he’s kinda cute…”

Dave proceeded to almost spit out his coffee. “I mean, I guess?”

“Oh, uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud, ha ha,” said Nepeta, rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck, her pale skin flushed red enough to rival how hot his own was right now. “He’s… not really my type, actually! I kinda like someone else anyways! I… I’m really sorry, I -”

“Don’t be sorry, s’no biggie. Dunno why you’d be sorry anyways.”

“...Are you not like, dating him?”

Were it possible for Dave to keel over and die at that exact moment, he would, and happily so. “Uh, no?” Jeez, his chest felt like it was tingling, the kind that made the back of his neck prickle and itch. He cupped the back of his neck with his hand, trying very hard not to laugh awkwardly at that. “He’s - no, he’s like, straight, and I don’t - Jesus, you don’t just ask someone if they’re -”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Nepeta’s hands jerked awkwardly. “Enjoy your coffee!”

Dave grabbed the other cup and skittered back towards John, almost slamming John’s coffee down on the table. John glanced up, his eyelashes skimming his glasses, those brilliant blue eyes meeting Dave’s shades. “...are you okay?”

“Me? Oh, umm, yeah, m’fine, ah, totally, one hundred percent, never been better,” Dave grabbed his coffee and downed as much of it as he could, ignoring how fucking hot it was on his tongue. At least it meant he didn’t have to sputter through a conversation, stumbling over every single fucking word. God damn it, Dave.

“You don’t sound fine.”

Dave cleared his throat, cupping his hands around his coffee. “Oh, it’s nothing, seriously, don’t worry about it. Just embarrassed is all, like, your friend Nepeta sure is something! How’d you meet her, anyways?”

“We… go to the same college, she’s friends with my friend Karkat.” John frowned at him. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re very red. Oh no, did she say something?”

“Nope! Nothing. Na-da. She didn’t say shit to me, except that you guys, like, know each other! Which is neat. I didn’t know you had other friends. I mean, of course I knew you had, uh, other friends, like, um, Rose, she’s really chill. Kind of a bitch, but she’s chill. Wait, sorry, that was rude, you used to date her.”

John snickered behind his latte. “So she asked if you’re dating me, then.”

Dave’s face probably looked like a firetruck. “What? No.”

“Look, she always asks anyone I hang out with if I’m dating them! I should’ve known it’d come up… she likes to play matchmaker, and she knows I’m single. I’m surprised she didn’t try to set you up with one of her friends, like Sollux or Karkat… well, maybe not Karkat.”

“I have no clue who that is.”

“Karkat’s her step-brother. Nepeta’s mom married Karkat’s dad.”

Still no clue who that was, but okay. He could work with that. “Lemme guess, it’s one of those porn situations, where she’s got a crush on her step-brother and is super into him and he’s like, banging her on the side.”

“I think you watch too much porn,” John said, with an incredibly awkward laugh, taking a drink of his latte. “Nepeta had a crush on him before their parents got married, and it kinda died out, but she’s very protective of him and who he dates! Plus, he’s dating someone right now… I’ve never met them, but I know he’s dating someone.”

Honestly, he didn’t care about John’s friends, or their dating lives. He just wanted to drown himself in seriously bitter cappuccino that really needed a little sugar, for fuck’s sake. God, this was some disgusting coffee… hell, the lavender shit had been better.

Not that he’d say that.

* * *

John’s house was almost exactly what Dave had been picturing. Victorian-esque, painted a tealish-blue with white accents, a front porch with red-bricked steps leading up to it that wrapped part way around the house, and the sort of windows that an architect would pop a boner over, and white lattice across the second floor. It was exactly the kind of house people dreamed about living in, with one of those towers off it, white Christmas lights on the porch and a wooden bench swing, the kind you’d sit in and read or drink morning coffee while looking out over the street.

In other words, even the outside was enough to get Dave a little pumped.

The inside? Even better. Someone had lit a candle that smelled like hot cocoa and cinnamon rolls, soft jazz music playing from the kitchen. The living room looked exactly like what he’d expected, blue denim couches covered with squishy looking embroidered pillows. Hell, there was a fucking hat stand and a coat rack (he actually had a jacket to put there, not that he was sure he should) _and _a bench to put your shoes and purse and whatever. A pair of green sneakers, ballet-style flats, red high heels, glittery pink Hello Kitty boots, and a pair of combat boots caked in mud and snow.

A girl sat on one of the couches, thick curly brown hair pulled into a ponytail, a pair of round glasses sitting on her broad nose. She grinned, rushing over to them, and threw her arms around John - she was almost as tall as him, and didn’t seem to be wearing heels, so damn. Maybe they just made ‘em tall in this family.

“John!” she said - practically squealed. Then she stepped back, looking Dave up and down. “And you must be Dave, right? Rose told me about you.”

“Bet she said I’m hot and super cool, right?” Shit, did he say that out loud?

The girl laughed, bright and ringing. “I’m Jade, John’s cousin. It’s really nice to meet you, Dave! Oh, where’s Jake and Jane… wait, John, Jane invited Roxy, who invited Rose, just so you know!”

Shit. That was a fuck ton of people. What was this, a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving dinner? At least the house smelled great, and Dave couldn’t help but breathe in, his mouth watering at the smell.

“Dang,” said John. “That’s a lot of people.”

“Oh, I mean, I can ask Roxy and Rose to leave? But Jane just wanted her girlfriend here… and Rose kinda tagged along…” Jade looked like a sad puppy, right down to the eyes. “..and you know how nice it is when they’re here, and Uncle James really likes them…”

John sighed. “Really, with the eyes? Okay, okay, if Dave doesn’t mind… he’s the guest here, and I don’t wanna -”

“It’s fine. I don’t care, really.”

Jade looked at him like he’d just made her day. “Oh my gosh, yesss. Anyways, I need to go back to helping Jane cook! She’s making a lot of food… I think she’s stressed about exams…” And she proceeded to scurry off towards the kitchen, leaving Dave and John standing right in front of the door.

Dave wondered what would happen if he just opened it and ran off, right down the street, never to be seen again. Oh, there went Dave, fucking off to Nowhereville, Nowhere, gone in a flash, lost in some metaphorical flood.

“Sorry. I’m, uh, I’m gonna go up to my room and change,” said John, tugging at the hem of his turtleneck. “This really isn’t dinner clothing…”

“So what’s your room look like, anyways? As shitty as this?”

“Oh! You can come and see, if you want. I guess. I mean, no harm in that.” John smiled at him, and started up the stairs, leaving Dave to follow.

The upstairs hallway was covered in pictures - John and a guy who could’ve been his twin as kids, the girl from before, a shorter-haired young woman in all red… and one, a wedding photo, with a young woman that looked like an older version of John, holding hands with a dark-haired young man smiling broadly.

There weren't any pictures like this around Dave’s apartment.

John pushed open a door with a Ghostbuster sticker taped on the wood, reaching to one side and flipping the light switch on. John’s room was exactly what you’d expect it to look like: movie posters on the walls, a bed pushed into one corner with a desk next to it, some clothes strewn across the floor. John opened the closet, one of those with the four-part doors, and dug around in there for a moment before retrieving a shirt, one hand at the bottom of his current one.

“Could, you, uh…”

Dave turned around, face reddening.

Largely because, apparently, John had somehow forgotten about the floor-length mirror right there, taped up in parts, with a picture of Liv Tyler as Arwen tucked in the corner. John peeled off the shirt from the bottom up, his arms crossed, and Dave could see the muscles in his back working. His heart felt like it was straight up trying to jump out through his throat, face way hotter than it should’ve been just at the sight of a guy’s back, shoulder blades rolling a little as John tossed his shirt into the closet, pulling on a button-up very slowly, like he knew Dave was watching, movements languid and smooth, and Dave felt like he was about to explode into a thousand fucking pieces, ruin the carpet and the ceiling.

His head felt feverishly hot. Jesus Christ.

Dave glanced towards the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets, and John made a sighing little noise before walking over, sitting on the bed while he finished buttoning up the last two buttons on his shirt.

“You okay?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Dave, almost like he _knew_. Shit, he probably _did_, Dave was so horrible at lying and covering up things, so fucking bad at hiding when he was attracted to someone - and apparently he was ridiculously attracted to this nerd, with his gorgeous blue eyes, brownish skin, flippy dark hair and those stupidly full lips and…

“I’m fine,” he said, glancing around the room. “You like movies, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

John stood back up, a few inches taller than Dave, and gestured with his thumb at the door. “We should probably go downstairs.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t wanna miss dinner,” Dave said, nodding.

“That’d be bad.”

God. John was so close. He was so close that Dave could smell him, and he really did smell great, pine and cola, a little vanilla and smoke mixed in there. He could see the lights catching in John’s eyes, glittering, see John’s chest rise as he breathed, and -

And then John leaned in, and kissed him.

For a second, Dave wondered if it was a dream, because it felt like a dream. It felt like something his tired brain would come up with. But John was tilting his head, pushing his lips against Dave’s, and Dave pushed back. John tasted like latte and jelly, and it wasn’t bad at all, not the way his arms came to rest around Dave’s waist, pulling him flush and firm against him, one hand pushing Dave’s shades into his hair.

Dave pressed a hand against John’s back, rumpling up the fabric by grabbing at it, hissing when John tried to pull back a little. John chuckled against his mouth, reaching down to cop a feel and then… up Dave went, quickly wrapping his legs around John’s body as John stumbled back and onto the bed, Dave straddling him.

“I thought,” he started, and John snickered, pulling Dave back down to kiss.

Dave couldn’t find it in him to complain.

John’s teeth teased at Dave’s lower lip, letting out a soft sigh as he tilted his head away from Dave’s and towards his neck, pressing kisses against the flesh, dragging his teeth across the tense muscle, and Dave could feel his pants tightening just at that, throwing his head back and trying to stifle a moan. “Shit, dude, can you hold on a -”

“Mmm,” said John, grabbing Dave’s hips and pressing his lips against Dave’s once more, as if to try and shut him up. His hands kneaded at Dave’s hips, his ass, and shit, all he could do was tangle one hand in John’s hair and kiss him as urgently as humanly possible, John moving one hand up and getting rid of Dave’s jacket.

He really did taste amazing. He wondered what else John tasted like. Dave moved one hand back down, between them, messing with the buttons on John’s shirt, trying to pull the shirt loose.

“John? Are you up there? Dinner’s ready!”

“_Shit_,” hissed Dave, pulling away from John with a lurch, and John was looking up at him in shock, his hair rumpled and cheeks red. Dave moved off of him, adjusting his pants to try and hide the growing boner, because holy shit. Holy fucking shit, he hadn’t been that close to someone in a long time.

John glanced sheepishly at the ground, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry, I… I don’t know what came over me. You just… you looked so, uh, you looked kinda cute.”

“Did you… not _want _to?”

“No! No, I did,” John said, eyes wide behind his slightly lopsided glasses. He reached up and righted them, laughing a little. “I… I like you a lot, and… I know we just met a few days ago, but… I really, really like you, Dave.”

Dave’s stomach felt like someone had dropped a botanical garden’s worth full of butterflies down in there, swarming around frantically trying to get back out through his windpipe.

“Sorry, was… did… did you not want to?” John asked, moving a little closer.

Dave snorted, trying to find something to do with his hands. He decided on messing with the edge of his own shirt, since his jacket had come off in their horizontal tussle. “Nah, I’m just… tryna get my bearings back, uh.” He tried to gesture towards his crotch, as if that would help. “Sorry, don’t wanna get weird about it.”

“Oh. I… I guess I didn’t, uh. I’m sorry.” John genuinely did look sorry. Hell, he looked like he wanted to curl in on himself, just like Dave did. “I’m… gonna go head downstairs, help with dinner, and uh, I’ll see you down there? I… I wouldn’t mind doing that again… afterwards, maybe… or…”

If that was supposed to help Dave feel _less _flustered, it didn’t work.

“Ditto,” he mumbled, and John pushed open the door, fixing his hair with one hand, and headed down the hall, leaving Dave to just sit back down on John’s bed and try to figure out what the hell had just happened.

He couldn’t pinpoint when John had _apparently _decided he liked guys - or maybe it was just Dave, and maybe he just happened to be an exception to the ‘I’m straight’ rule. Dave didn’t think he looked particularly feminine in any way… if anything, John was the pretty one, with those sweeping lashes and plump lips and surprisingly nice hips. Dave really didn’t think he was all that androgynous, either, though he supposed he had his moments if he did his hair a certain way, wore his shades right, dressed in something that wasn’t a band tee, hoodie, and skinny jeans (he _did _own a suit, to be fair.)

Regardless, this entire week felt like someone had been speed-running their entire friendship/relationship. They’d met on Monday, and it was _Friday_, for fuck’s sake - they barely knew each other.

Yet, Dave _wanted _to kiss John, wanted to pin him back onto the bed and smooch the fuck out of him. Hell, he wanted to a whole lot fucking more than just kiss him, even if that felt completely off the rocker to everything else he usually did in relationships. It took weeks before he got past kissing with anyone… even though he’d really only dated a couple of people, but hey.

So what the fuck was up with this?

Why was John so special?

* * *

Dinner turned out to be build-it-yourself fajitas, and Dave’s was way too covered in cheese and sour cream for someone who was technically lactose intolerant. Not that he’d mention that to John. He could deal with a little stomach pain for some cheese with his chicken and lettuce and tomato. That, plus Mexican rice, avocado salad, refried beans, chips and salsa and queso… _and _homemade corn tortillas? They were hardly flexible, but they were fucking incredible.

Even the apple wine paired well with the meal (John had snatched some for him), and watching John’s family interact across the table… well.

Jake - the guy who looked almost identical to John, sans his outfit (seriously, how _did _people tell the two apart?) - he was pretty chill. Talked weird, like he’d walked right out off the set of a movie set during World War I, but he was pretty cool, waved his hands while he talked about his girlfriend, laughing at Jade when she told science jokes. Rose’s cousin, Roxy, looked like someone’s cotton candy-colored manic pixie dream girl, from the glittery off-shoulder top to her jeans with little cats on the knees and the bright pink hair, laughing and holding hands across the table with John’s sister, Jane. Jane, who looked decidedly vintage, from her blue halter top to her bright red lips, sharing John’s eyes and smile.

They looked like a family, minus Rose and Roxy, but even they fit in with the rest. A cohesive unit, and Dave stood out. He didn’t share history with anyone here.

He was a complete stranger.

“So, Dave, John says you’re studying to be a paleontologist?”

“Osteologist,” Dave said, pulled out of his head by Jake’s words. “Bit of a difference.”

“Not much of one, I hear! It’s bones all around,” said Jake, who proceeded to laugh at his own joke like it was the funniest thing in the universe. Rose, sitting next to him, rolled her eyes and made a gagging motion with her tongue, and Dave snickered into his fajita. “Well, do you like it?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“That’s wonderful! I’m studying to be an archaeologist,” Jake said, and he grinned wide before picking up his wine and taking a sip, before pulling a face. “Ah, dad blast it, this stuff’s disgusting. Dave, Rose, do either of you want mine?”

Dave opened his mouth to say that yes, in fact, he really fucking wanted that wine, hand it over daddy-o, give him the alcoholic beverage. “Don’t mind if I do,” said Rose, taking the glass from him and smirking at Dave.

He casually flipped her off with a hand in his hair.

“You’re from Texas?” asked John’s dad. John’s dad was fucking handsome as hell. If John was going to evolve into THAT, no wonder he’d had at least three girlfriends in his life, because while John _was _really fucking cute and shit… John’s dad was nearly a silver fox to rival Ted Danson (Dave had seen _enough _episodes of CSI: Cyber.)

“He is!” said John, excitedly.

John’s dad frowned. “What brings you up to Washington?”

“Uh,” said Dave, trying to come up with a lie as quickly as possible. He didn’t really think well on the spot, honestly, so trying to come up with an excuse for why Dave Strider of Houston, Texas happened to be in Seattle was like trying to force a turtle to run. “EMP Museum, actually, I’m, uh, I _love _pop culture.”

“It’s called the Museum of Pop Culture,” said Rose.

“Well, yeah, _duh_. I really wanna see the guitar sculpture, I hear it looks cool.”

John’s dad nodded. “No other reasons? You’re friends with my son, right?”

“Uh, yeah, we met on…”

“Tumblr!” said John, grinning. “We bonded over _Ghostbusters_. We met ‘cause of a post on the 2016 reboot.”

The… _what_? There was a 2016 reboot? Jesus, maybe John really WAS from the future… the EMP Museum had a different name, there was a new Ghostbusters film… he didn’t even like Ghostbusters, but hey, it was a better excuse than half this shit he was coming up with mentally. He’d almost said they met on Tinder, for crying out loud. “Yeah, I said it was really good.”

“You liked that?” asked Jake, raising an eyebrow. “I thought it was… well, um, I thought it wasn’t that good…”

“Nah, I loved it. I love when they… bust all those goshdarn ghosts.”

Rose snickered behind her second wine glass. “Did you, now?”

“Yeah. I did. I totally did.”

Jane let out a very audible sigh, and got to her feet, starting to clear off the table. “So, who wants to help me clean up?” she asked, glancing down the table, and Roxy got to her feet, giggling as she grabbed her own plate.

“I’ll help,” Dave offered, and got to his feet.

“You’re a guest!” Jane said, looking… well. She looked flabbergasted, or as best as the term could be used. You know the look shocked cartoon characters get? That was exactly the look on her face.

He shrugged. “I don’t mind, really.”

“Oh, uh, I’ll help,” John said, and hurried over to the sink, turning on the water and snatching Dave’s plate right from him. “Dave can dry the dishes!”

Uh. Okay. They had a perfectly good dishwasher right there, but okay. “Yeah, I can do that. Where are the paper towels?”

“Paper towels? Golly no,” said Jane, reaching under the sink to pull out a fluffy blue towel. “Use this. Paper towels would get residue on the plates, silly.”

Dave had literally _never _heard of that before, but okay. Sure. He took the towel from her and got to work drying off the dishes.

* * *

He’d tuned out the movie John put on after about twenty minutes of gratuitous violence and topless women. It was a pretty mindless movie, a slasher flick with way more than enough slashing in it, and it played from John’s laptop, sitting on his lap while Dave sat next to him, ignoring the fact that they were sitting on the same bed they’d made out on about an hour and a half ago.

It was getting dark outside, and Dave _knew_, logically, that going home was a good idea, borrowing John’s dad’s car again to take him back to the bookstore before they closed, so he could go back through and get home. Hell, it’d be noon when he got back, assuming this strange and incredibly disturbing time thing worked properly both ways.

But then John was taking Dave’s hand in his, and all thoughts went out the door. Red alert, red alert, cute nerd was holding his hand, and bringing it to his mouth to kiss Dave’s knuckles like some sort of Southern gentleman!

“Can I, uh, can I kiss you?” John asked, leaning forward, his mouth brushing against Dave’s ear.

It sent a shiver right down his spine. “Fuck, do you have to _ask_?”

John’s mouth practically crashed against his, and the laptop slid to the floor with a crash, John climbing over Dave and pressing him into the sheets, a knee coming to rest between Dave’s legs, and it felt good, the right amount of pressure on top of him and between his thighs. It felt like some form of collison, like two stars forming a blackhole, or however that worked. This felt light years away from acceptable, but also exactly like what he wanted.

He’d always wanted this, apparently, because it felt so _right_. The feeling of John’s weight against him, John’s hand in his hair, fingers working at his scalp, his other hand intertwined with Dave’s, and all Dave could do was wrap one arm around John’s back, pull him as close as possible. He wasn’t close enough.

They weren’t close enough.

John’s mouth moved down his throat.

“Shit, when you said kissing -”

John pressed an open-mouthed kiss against his shoulder. “Shh, just… lemme do this, okay? I’ve never…”

“Been with a guy.”

“No, I was going to say, I’ve never kissed someone like you before.”

“So, a guy.”

“Shut up, or I won’t go down on you.”

That certainly shut Dave up, mainly because his dick was sending all sorts of signals up to his brain at that, or maybe it was vice versa - either way, John’s hands were pushing up his shirt, and he pulled away from Dave for a second to yank the shirt right off him. John was so _warm_ against his skin, with his mouth trailing down his clavicle, resting in the hollow of his neck, moving down his chest to… oh.

Apparently, John had decided the best course of action was to put his lips around Dave’s nipple and suck at it. And this did, in fact, seem like the best course of action, because it felt really fucking good, sending the best kind of tingles down his spine, and his back arched up a little to try and get John closer.

He grabbed John by the hair a little, and John let out a yelp that turned into an unsurprisingly nice moan, John grinning at him, his glasses askew. “Is that not okay?”

“Holy shit, it’s fine, I just want to kiss you, is that too much to ask for?”

“I thought you wanted me to go down on you?”

John made a good point, to be fair, but right now his brain was screaming _I want you to kiss me_ way more than his dick was yelling about being touched, and Dave pulled him back towards him, their mouths crashing together. John grinned against his mouth, and Dave couldn’t help but smile back.

He pulled away, pushing John onto his back and using the leverage to straddle him again. “Look, let’s be real, you’d have no clue where to put your mouth on a dick.”

“Okay, good point,” said John, face very red. “I… to be honest I don’t, like, I don’t really even know my way around my own dick, except for… during sex. I’ve never, uh… jeez this is weird to admit but I’ve never jerked off, not really. I have a few times but…”

Of course he hadn’t.

“So how about I show you where I like it?”

John’s eyes widened, and he squirmed beneath him. “Oh, I mean... I won’t object, but… are you sure that’s something you wanna do?”

Dave thought for all of about two seconds, debating if that was, in fact, something he wanted to do. “Yeah. I do. I really want to.”

“I’ve… uh, well, to be honest, I’ve never really... god, why am I squirming around this? I’ve never seen another guy’s dick, except for maybe in the locker room. So, I guess I’ve never seen another hard dick.”

Dave unzipped his jeans, snickering. “Eh, they’re not all that great.”

“I bet you have a nice one,” John said, his hands on Dave’s hips, hooking his fingers below the waistband and helping him wiggle out of his jeans. Jeez, sitting on someone while trying to get your pants off was a really bad idea. He climbed off John and managed to wriggle out, tossing his jeans to the floor. John glanced down at Dave’s briefs, letting out a giggle. “You wear briefs? That’s kinda cute.”

“Shut up. You’re a boxers guy, aren’t you? Think it’s not manly to wear briefs?”

“I never said that. But, uh, wow, you really are into this.” John reached forward, sitting up, and put his hands on either side of Dave’s hips. “Are you sure about this?”

“More like, are _you _sure about this? Once you see Strider Jr., there’s no going back. I’ll be pregnant and having your kids by next August, we’ll be married by February at the latest. If I show my dick to you, this is a for sure thing.”

(He pushed the fact that John was from the future to the side.)

“I don’t mind at all,” John said, and pulled his underwear down.

Dave carefully sat back down on the bed, John moving the sheets around a little, and took his dick in one hand. And holy shit, that felt really good, even if it was his own hand.

John licked his lips, moving closer, his tongue sticking out between his teeth for a moment. “Wow.”

“Uh, good or bad wow?” His dick pretty much screamed ‘move your goddamn hand, you idiot’, so Dave gave himself a very, very slow stroke, his legs shaking a little. “Shit.”

“Good wow. Uh, is it weird to say you have a… nice dick?”

Dave shook his head, and let out a sharp breath. “Dunno if I can do small talk, John.”

“Oh, right, yeah. I’m just saying, it’s a pretty nice dick!” John grinned, and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Dave’s shoulder. Holy hell, he really was naked, and John was sitting there all clothed up and what not. That was not fair at all.

He reached a hand over and tried to undo one of the buttons on John’s shirt, while also keeping a hand on his dick. This proved incredibly fucking hard, so Dave just focused on jerking himself off while John undid the buttons, tossing his shirt to the side. He had such a nice chest, and a nice stomach, all soft and shit. Dave wanted to bury his face in John’s belly and just never leave.

Right now, though, he really wanted to get off a lot more than he wanted to do anything else. Too much friction, not enough lube or lotion or anything. Despite the bead of precum already pooling at tip, he needed more wetness.

“Do you at least have lotion or somethin’?”

“Oh, I have lube,” said John, getting off the bed, and Dave’s eyes fell right on his crotch. Holy toledo did John have a fucking huge bulge in his pants right there. “Gimme a second, it’s, uh…” And he started rummaging below his bed, before coming out with a plastic bag with condoms, a vibrator (jeez), and a squirtable container of lube. He squeezed some onto his hand, and grinned at Dave before reaching over and wrapping his hand around Dave’s dick.

Whoa.

Dave rutted up into his hand, and John moved to sort of straddle him, pressing his mouth against Dave’s without any hesitation. He pressed up against John, panting into his mouth and grinding up into his palm, before John pulled away, laughing near-teasingly. “I think you’re the one who’s supposed to show me what to do, silly.”

“Cocktease,” Dave mumbled, leaning back against the bed frame, and John grinned at him with a wink. “You know way more than you let on, don’t you.”

“I’ve been on the receiving end of handjobs. I know what _I _like.” John’s fingers danced across Dave’s chest, and Dave gave a thrust up into his own hand, stroking as slowly as he could.

He didn’t want this to end.

John pulled down his own pants, then his underwear, and holy shit that was a fucking porn star cock, and he wanted that in his mouth stat, but Dave didn’t say a word, because John was sitting in just the right way that Dave could see every outline of his body, every muscle accentuated by the low lamp light. “Okay, okay, I’ll take pity on you,” he said, and moved over Dave so he could kiss him. Dave wanted to grind up into John’s body, but couldn’t bring himself to; instead, he just relented into the kiss, relaxing as much as he could. John’s hand cupped around Dave’s dick one more time, and Dave rutted up into his fingers, letting out a low whine when John moved ever so slightly, fingers brushing right up against the ridge. John pressed his thumb right over the head.

“_John_,” Dave moaned, and _snapped_.

When his brain stopped short-circuiting, John was grinning down at him, still lightly stroking. That was way too much feeling, and Dave grabbed John’s wrist, pulling his hand away. “Holy shit, dude, you really know how to treat a guy, don’cha?”

“Maybe I do,” John said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Can I… do you wanna…”

“Yeah, I do, and I would like it if you returned the favor, actually,” John replied, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Dave’s forehead. “It got all over your chest and my hand, by the way. Would it be weird if I licked my fingers off?”

“It’s, uh, hot in porn.”

John stuck his thumb in his mouth, and made a face, pulling his fingers away and wiping them off on the sheets. “Porn’s a liar, then.”

Dave moved closer, pulling John on top of him. “God, I wish you’d fuck me.”

“I mean, uh, I do have the lube and condoms and all, I just… that might not be a good idea for a first date.”

“Good point, but do you think my sex-addled brain agrees?”

John smirked against Dave’s mouth. “I don’t. But you owe me a handjob.”

“Mhm. But I’m tired.”

“I’m serious! You do. Don’t fall asleep on me, Dave, I’m kinda super horny right now.”

“Fine, okay.” And Dave moved so he could get a hand between them, taking grip of John’s dick. John let out the nicest noise he’d ever heard, moaning right into Dave’s collarbone, and holy shit that was literally the most gorgeous noise in the world. Every noise he made while Dave slowly stroked him, every frustrated little sigh and soft whine?

Fucking poetry.

It didn’t take long at all before John spilled over, coming across Dave’s stomach and hands, and then he slumped down on top of him, moaning out a strangled version of Dave’s name right into his ear, sweeter than any song he’d ever heard.

“Stay with me,” John mumbled.

“Through the night?”

“Forever. I think I’m falling in love with you.”

It sounded really, _really _appealing, as Dave drifted off into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary of The Porn: they make out and do some hand job stuff. Then This Happens:
>
>> “Stay with me,” John mumbled.
>> 
>> “Through the night?”
>> 
>> “Forever. I think I’m falling in love with you.”
>> 
>> It sounded really, _really _appealing, as Dave drifted off into unconsciousness.


	5. the light through the windowpane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry, this got shorter than originally hoped. Uhh, title from Scheherazade by Richard Seiken, as expected... if this gets much longer I might have to quit using snippets from this poem, heh. Why must I be a pantser and not a plotter? Why??
> 
> "Wait what happened to John's plan to get Dave to stay?" you might ask. That happened in the previous chapter. Note the M rating. Okay, no, I kid, his plan was just to introduce Dave to his family, and also confess to Dave that he was crushing on him. Which then turned into 'I think I'm falling in love with you.' WHOOPS. Imagine saying that to someone you just met.

John had dated enough girls, _and _been around enough of them, to know that something was up with Vriska. She’d been avoiding his calls, leaving his texts on read, and on their last date, she’d actually offered to blow him, very possibly in an attempt to get him to shut up asking her questions as to if she was okay. He would’ve seen the break up coming, if he’d colored in his glasses a little less rosy-pink… but John really did love Vriska Serket a surprising amount. Sure, she was bitchy, and rude, and could kick his ass at any game… but she meant a lot to him.

He loved her a lot, which made her saying, “We need to talk,” even worse.

They were sitting on the couch in her dorm room - her roommate, Aradia, was out for the day, and usually this meant she’d pull him into the shower for sex or something (not that he minded, he liked the cuddles he got after.)

“What’s up?” he asked, and Vriska let out a sharp sigh.

“I’m dumping you, John. It’s over. O-v-e-r. Look, I know this is super hard to hear, but I just… I’m not that into you!”

John could only blink at her. “Why?”

“I like girls more, okay? It’s just… ever since you brought Terezi back into my life, she’s all I think about! And I mean, she’s literally all that I think about! I can’t get her out of my head! It’s all Terezi this, Terezi that. I’m pretty sure I’m like, in love with her!”

Which was really weird, because he’d introduced Terezi to Vriska just a week and a half ago.

“Um… are you sure you didn’t just miss her?”

“Shut up, John, I know what I’m saying! Seriously, I think I’m in love with her, and I already asked her out, and she feels the same way, and the only thing standing between me and complete happiness is you.”

Wow. That was… harsh. John swallowed, and stood up. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

“It is. Thanks for understanding, John, you’re a real… doll? I dunno, but thank you! Really, it means a lot, I’m so sorry. I know you’ll never find anyone else like me…”

Well, now that he’d seen this, John was pretty sure he didn’t want to find anyone else like her. “Probably not.”

Vriska grinned at him, her good eye giving him a wink, and that was that. John was out of a girlfriend, and when he next tried to text Terezi, she’d blocked his number, so he was out of a friend too.

His family, plus Rose and Kanaya, spent the next week distracting him from the break-up, before it finally hit him whilst laying in bed a 3 am, unable to sleep: Vriska had found something in someone else that John didn’t have, and there was no use being upset about it, when there was nothing he could do.

He wasn’t going to try and get her back.

He could find someone better, once he got over her.

* * *

The sunlight woke John up before it woke Dave, streaming through the windows. John felt gross and sticky, probably from lack of showering before he’d passed out on Dave post… well, whatever he was supposed to call the previous night. Sex? Heavy petting? A very, very intense make out session where both parties involved brought out their dicks? Gosh, he had no clue what the fuck to consider it.

Though, it had been nice. Really nice. Dave was a pretty decent kisser, and watching him awkwardly jerk off while John watched _was _kinda cute… or really hot, depending on how he considered it.

And watching Dave sleep next to him, naked sans his socks, curled up around a pillow… it was probably the best thing he’d ever seen, those pale limbs against the blue of John’s sheets, a blanket pulled over him a little. John could’ve just stared at him for hours, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, the tiny snoring he made (hell, it wasn’t even annoying.)

And it was a Saturday, so it wasn’t like he had school. It wasn’t like either of them had school. They could literally just lay here all day, John watching Dave sleep.

Except for the fact that his dad would eventually come to get him, and see that they were both pretty much naked, and _that _would be awkward, especially with all the… stickiness. John used a kleenex to wipe off what was on him, but that didn’t account for the wet spots all over the sheets, where they’d played bed tetris in their sleep to avoid, apparently. John moved off the bed, retrieved his boxers from the ground, and pulled those on, grabbing a shirt from the closet as quietly as possible before heading downstairs in the hopes of retrieving food before his dad got up.

Sadly, this was impossible, because his dad was sitting there with a newspaper and a mug of coffee.

“Good morning, son. Sleep well?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

“Did your friend get back to his hotel safely?”

“Actually,” said John, opening the fridge, “he kinda, slept over here?”

Dad raised an eyebrow at him, and John’s face flushed. “Is that so?”

“I mean, uh, he slept on the floor, don’t worry.”

“John, you’re nineteen. You don’t have to make excuses if you want to have sex with someone, male, female, or neither. Are you… romantically involved with him?”

How was he supposed to answer that? They’d only met on Monday! “I’m not. I mean, to be honest, I kind of like him… a lot…” (God, John, you’d told him you were falling in love with him last night! What were you saying?) “But… we’re really just friends, I think. I don’t know if it’d work, with the long distance…”

“I used to date someone long-distance,” said his dad, taking a drink of his coffee. “We didn’t last long.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that…”

“It was when I was a teenager. A little younger than you, actually. Why don’t you go with chicken sandwiches for you and your friend? There’s leftover fajita meat, I’m sure it’d taste fine.”

John pulled out the plastic container and grabbed the bread from on top of the fridge, undoing the tie and slathering a little mayo on the bread. Fajita chicken, a little tomato and lettuce, and bam, sandwiches.

He headed back upstairs, holding the plates aloft, and when he opened the door, there was Dave, groggily sitting up and shielding his face from the sunlight.

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. He looked like a mess, ruffled hair and… dried stuff on his stomach, one sock pushed down to his toes. “Aw shit, you scored food, that makes up for it.”

“You need a shower,” John mumbled, handing him one plate. “It’s only like, seven AM, we could probably just do whatever for a few hours before we go back to the shop?”

“Could I desperately rut into your hand again, ‘cause that was nice.”

“Let’s save that for next time,” John joked, and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Dave’s forehead. He smelled gross and sweaty, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t really care. “Eat up, okay? Seriously, you stink. You really need a shower.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, dude. Means a lot.” Dave held up the sandwich and took a bite, overdramatically fake-moaning. He finished the sandwich in record time compared to John, before getting off the bed and grabbing his clothes off the ground, setting his aviators right back on his head. “So, where’s the shower?”

“Oh, I’ll come with.”

“Damn, you gonna join me for some one-on-one time? Help me wash my hair while I go down on you, or vice versa?”

John’s stomach gave the nicest flutter, and he laughed into his sandwich. “Um, no. But I will help you wash your hair, if you don’t mind using my shampoo.”

Dave grinned, pulling on his underwear and half-hopping on one foot to get it on. “I don’t mind at all. That’s fucking _precisely _what I want in life, dude, you’ve got no _idea_. My entire life’s built up to this moment, your hands in my hair, scrubbing Egbert-scented shampoo on my scalp, popping in some conditioner to make it count, y’know.”

“I actually use two-in-one shampoo…”

“Damn. You oughta change that, dude, ‘cause that’s shit. Trust me. Your hair will thank you.”

“Hmm, I think maybe I will take you up on you going down on me if it’ll make you shut up for a few moments.”

Dave’s face turned that very nice shade of pink John had come to like. “Wow, you’re a dick. I guess you _are _my type.”

“Maybe that’s what’s so special about me.”

“Maybe,” mused Dave. “Maybe it is, but either way, you’re a fucking _sensation _of a guy, John.”

It turned out that blowjobs in the shower were ridiculously hard to do, and Dave and John gave up on that idea pretty much the second Dave got to his knees. Which was fine, since John wasn’t really feeling the mood anyways. It was, however, nice to scrub Dave down, learn every inch of him, the freckles on his shoulders and back, the mole on his left shoulder (Dave was incredibly ticklish, which didn’t surprise John at all, somehow.)

They got dressed after - Dave borrowed one of John’s smaller shirts, and it still looked a tiny bit too big on him, the fabric hanging off in a surprisingly nice way, the Ghostbusters logo faded and stretched over his chest. Dave glared at John’s reflection in the mirror, probably because John couldn’t quit smiling.

“What? You look really cute,” John said, and grinned at him.

“I look like…” Dave trailed off, pulling his shades down over his eyes. “God, I look dumb.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yeah, I totally do.”

John snickered, coming up behind him and dangling his arms over Dave’s shoulders. “You look cute, and I like it. Also, you smell really good.”

“It’s your shampoo, dumbass.”

“I know,” he said, and pressed a kiss to Dave’s hair. “You’re just… really cute, is that weird of me to say?”

Dave squirmed around ‘til he was facing John. “It sounds really fucking weird, honestly, but I don’t think I give a shit. You could tell me you’re a serial killer, and I’d still think you’re hotter than half the people I’ve made out with.”

“Is it... weird if I ask how many that is? Not like I’m jealous or anything… I’m just, uh, kinda curious… like if -”

“Uh, two. Aside from you.”

Oh. He’d… somehow expected more, honestly, but John found himself flustered regardless, stepping back and covering his face. “God, I’m sorry, that was probably really rude to ask.”

“Nah, it wasn’t. I don’t care. Not like it matters.”

“What would you say to, uh, me taking you out for an early lunch slash late breakfast? I know this really nice diner, it’s called Casey’s Depot, they have the best pancakes, I think you’d like it…”

“Uh, okay.”

* * *

Casey’s Depot was, as far as John was concerned, the best diner in the world. Their slogan was ‘Homesick Cures’, and it really suited them. Casey’s had the best pancakes, and some really dang good fries, and a great view of the street, from the red maple trees to the snow lightly covering the streets and sidewalks, like a coat of powdered sugar.

Dave was shivering when John opened the door for him, bundled beneath his own jacket and one of John’s. John could hear everything magnified twicefold - the cooks calling out orders and the bell on the door ringing as they stepped inside, people talking and laughing and grumbling, sizzling burgers and the smell of coffee hitting his nostrils. And god did it feel and sound and _taste _amazing.

One of the waitresses, a middle-aged woman with curly red hair, ushered them over to a table, tossing down two laminated menus and drawling out a “what can I get for you to drink, dolls?”

“Coke,” said Dave, right as John said “Pepsi, please.”

They exchanged a quick glance, before the waitress said, “We only sell Pepsi products here. Is that good?”

“Uhh… root beer, then.” Dave’s nose and ears were red from the cold, but it reminded John a lot of how he’d pretty much been full-body flushing the night prior. “Assuming you have root beer.”

“Mhm,” said the waitress, scrawling down their orders, and she scampered off, leaving John to pick up the menu and scan over the pictures and kitschy dark red text font. John bit his lower lip, peeling off some chapped skin with his teeth, glancing up every so often at Dave as he read the menu.

Waffles… pancakes… biscuits and gravy… fries and burgers and hot dogs… hashbrowns… hmm. “I think I’m going to go with pancakes and bacon and eggs, you?”

“There’s way too fuckin’ much on this menu, dude. What the fuck’s a home fry?”

“It’s like, potatoes fried with onions and stuff.”

“Croque madame?”

“I think that’s a sandwich with an egg on top.”

“...corned beef?”

“You know,” said John, “I’m not actually sure _what _corned beef is? I think I’m just gonna assume it’s beef with corn, but I might be wrong…”

“What the fuck is a butter basted egg? Actually, I don’t think I wanna know, that makes me think of someone putting spooge up their flange with a turkey baster and just going nuts with it. Literally nuts. Jeez, do not want.”

John gagged a little. “Really? At brunch?”

“I thought it was an incredibly early lunch?”

“Well, isn’t that the same thing?”

“No, brunch is like, breakfast and lunch foods, and cocktails or something. Mimosas, maybe. You drink a mimosa while eating your waffles and steak or something. I dunno, I’ve only ever seen ‘em in movies, who the fuck eats lunch foods and breakfast foods in the same meal?”

He caught himself sighing in response. “It’s a tradition for some people!”

“Not _all_ people, John.” Dave set down the menu. “You know what? I’m going with chicken tenders and fries.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want breakfast and lunch at the same meal.”

“Yeah, not in MY meal. Yours? I don’t give a shit, put whatever you want on your plate. _I’m _not the one eating it,” Dave replied, laughing a little as he rested his arms on the table. “So, since we pretty much banged last night, can I ask you shit about yourself?”

“Sure. I don’t see why not.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

John thought for all of .5 seconds. “Green. What’s yours?”

“Red, duh. Celebrity crush?”

Hmm. “Liv Tyler… or maybe Matthew McConaughey, I guess? I didn’t realize that was a crush until Rose pointed it out… do you have one?”

“Maybe that guy who plays Barry Allen on _The Flash_, but… eh. You got any questions?”

“What’s your favorite tv show?”

Dave pursed his lips together, drumming his fingers on the roughed up table, leaning back into the booth. “_How to Get Away with Murder_, so far. Favorite movie?”

“_Con Air_, by far.”

“I expected you to be a Ghostbusters fan.”

“Eh,” said John, “it’s really good, it is! But Nicholas Cage is a _really _good actor in _Con Air_, and personally I think it’s some of his best work, if not his best. I didn’t like the one movie where he could see into the future, it was really bad, but _Ghost Rider _was pretty good, and so was _National Treasure _-”

“Mhm. Next question, birthday?”

“April 13th, you?”

“December 1st.”

“Favorite type of music?”

“Rap or remixes. What’s the perfect date, for you?”

“April 25th. Not too hot, not too cold, you only need a jacket!”

“Is that a movie quote or something?”

“_Miss Congeniality_, Dave, duh. It’s one of the best movies ever, of all time.”

Dave gave a lopsided smile. “Be serious, dude.”

“Okay… well, I guess going bowling and getting ice cream afterwards.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious! I like doing something, and then getting food afterwards. And I had,” and John leaned over the table, taking Dave’s hands, “a lot of fun. The bowling alley food was great, I liked the milkshake, and spending the day with you was _really _nice.”

Dave picked up his hand, and brought it to his lips, kissing John’s knuckles. “Ditto.”

* * *

It was 12:30 by the time they got to the bookstore, Dave snickering as he lead John back through the shelves. There wasn’t a person in sight, minus Meulin - so when Dave pressed John against a shelf to give him a goodbye kiss, John didn’t protest.

“You know, you could stay here a little longer,” John murmured. Maybe if he said the right things.... Dave just wouldn’t go back at all, ever, and he’d stay with John, and they could figure out a happy ending. God, he really wanted a happy ending with Dave, right in this moment, his back against a shelf, Dave’s mouth on his neck. “You could just stay forever.”

“Y’know I can’t do that.”

“I really do think I love you, Dave.”

Dave frowned at him, stepping back, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Look, the feeling’s mutual, but… and, jeez, I hate that m’saying this, but it’s probably just infatuation… which, yeah, sucks, but…”

What’d happened to their conversation at the diner? “You don’t know that.”

“No, I guess I don’t, just… this seems like a one-way ticket to us fucking something up.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think we will! I… I really like you, a lot, Dave. I wanna get to know you a lot better. I want to spend a lot of time with you, and… do gross couple-y things like go on dates and PDA and stuff… I want you to meet all my friends, and I wanna meet yours!”

“My friends are in Texas, in 2014.”

John sighed. “I know, but still… maybe we could make it work.”

Except he knew they couldn’t. He knew that, by tomorrow, this doorway would close, and he’d likely never see Dave again. And he really was falling in love with him, with every single inch of him, every little part.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it, okay?” said Dave, reaching over to adjust John’s glasses. “Just, give me a day or two. I gotta talk to Bro, figure out shit, probably gotta drop outta school if I stayed here… don’t suppose you got a… jeez, what am I saying?”

“You’re considering it?”

“I guess? But I’d be throwing away my life’s goal for… this.” And Dave gestured around the bookstore. “Seattle. In the future. Dude, I’m just saying, but that’s a little weird for you to ask of me.”

John cleared his throat, trapping Dave’s hand on the side of his face with his own. It felt warm, and Dave’s eyes got a little heavy-lidded for a moment, a soft smile playing across his lips. “I’m not asking you to leave your life behind for me.”

“Yeah, you are.”

He was asking just that, and he knew it. They both knew it. Was it wrong for John to ask Dave to throw his life away, to stay here until he died, just because they had some sort of weird connection? It felt like something out of a movie, a book, a fairytale… and he knew they just didn’t have time left enough to debate it.

But he couldn’t make him stay.

“Okay, just don’t think about it too long, ok?” Now was the time to admit it, if he could even bring himself to. He needed to say something, to tell Dave the truth, that they didn’t have much more than maybe a day and a half left and then they’d… never see each other again.

He reached out, took Dave’s hands in his, and opened his mouth to try and explain, try and beg Dave to stay, because he didn’t want to lose him. He _couldn’t _lose him. Despite how little time they’d had together, Dave was so goddamn important to him, and he didn’t want to just let Dave walk away without trying.

Dave just snickered, pulling his hands away from John’s. “I won’t get too busy thinking about it, I promise.”

And he turned, reaching over to grab the book on magic tricks from the shelf right next to them, to head back to Texas, and 2014, and his own life. And John could only pray to god that he’d maybe give it a little consideration.

Except, the shelf didn’t move.

Dave put the book back in, then took it back out.

Nothing.

Na-da.

Nope.

“Uhhh,” said John, blinking, “maybe if I…”

He grabbed the book from Dave’s hand, trying to push the book back into it’s spot. And again, nothing happened. The shelf didn’t move. The book just sat there next to other books on magic tricks. John pulled out the one next to it, then the next, until he’d tried every book on the shelf relating to magic.

And _nothing _had happened.

Dave took a step back, his face drained of all color. “It won’t open.”

“Maybe there’s… maybe if we push the…” John tried the other side of the shelf, tried to move it using his shoulder. It wouldn’t budge, and upon closer inspection, was kind of nailed right to the wall. It wouldn’t move.

It wouldn’t move.

“I’m stuck here, aren’t I?” Dave asked, looking up at John, red eyes rimmed with tears. He’d never seen Dave cry before, and he didn’t really want to start.

But Dave _was _starting to cry, because he was stuck.

In Seattle. In the _future_.

And as far as John knew, there was no other way to get back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH SO this is where it's gonna get complicated.... not really. I know exactly what I'm doing with this. Where are some sparkles for my text when I need them?? >:/
> 
> Look. Technically, you can consider chapter 4 the final chapter. It doesn't end with a cliffhanger. It ends pretty well, actually. Hell, you can consider their little date in here the grand finale, because there's a little angst to come, but not much - things will get settled, this I promise. Everyone gets a happy, non-angsty ending. It IS fairy tale-esque, remember??? Er, the framing device is fairy tale-esque. Or it was. Originally. I think the flashbacks at the beginning of each chapter have kinda gotten away from me, and they just put in some nice information about John and Dave pre-johndave.
> 
> But, I can assure you this won't end badly for anyone involved. Except for the bad guys.
> 
> (Wait, are there bad guys??)


	6. bodies, possessed by light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hMMM so this chapter's a doozy and it should probably be longer BUT y'know, details. AS FAR AS I KNOW, one chapter to go. But I mIGHT change that to... two more??? Or three more??? I'm not sure............ we'll see where the next chapter goes....................
> 
> (I feel like I'm writing this more for me than you?? Sorry. I really hope you like it.)

The Houston police station was probably the worst place for an eleven year old to be, sitting in the waiting area and staring at the flag of Texas plastered to one wall, coloring books and crayons splayed out across a table. Dave could hear people talking behind the glass, and he glared at his feet, at the room temp water cup in one hand, waiting for the door to open and for Bro to come in.

Which happened way sooner than expected.

A hand rested on Dave’s shoulder, and he looked up to see Bro raising an eyebrow down at him, disappointment scrawled across his face. “Really, Dave? This is the second time in the past three months.” Bro sighed before walking up to the man at the front desk, talking quietly to him, before two police officers came in past the glass partition. One of them was the same person who’d caught Dave in the first place.

“Hey, Mr. Strider. Nice to see you again,” said the guy, a pale-skinned man with broad shoulders and short brown hair. “Sorry to call you in from work, but…”

“He tried to run away again?”

“Actually, we caught him shoplifting.”

Dave groaned into his hands - he hadn’t been shoplifting, for fuck’s sake, he was just looking at the software! He didn’t have any good programs for digital art, he’d just been eyeing it, picked it up and cracked open the case to take a _look_ at the CD-ROM. Like, that was all he’d done. He hadn’t been planning to leave the store with it!

“Dave?” said Bro, glancing over at him, crossing his arms over his white tank top. “Is this true?”

“No. I didn’t do it.”

“Well, my kid bro here says he didn’t do it.”

“They caught him on surveillance, Derrick.”

Bro groaned. “Don’t ‘Derrick’ me, _officer_. If he said he didn’t do it, I’m inclined to believe him. I raised him better than to shoplift.”

“He tried to leave the shop with a CD.”

“Dave?”

“I didn’t! I was just looking at it.”

Bro walked over, crouched down in front of Dave, and took his hands in his, lowering his voice. “You know, it’s okay if you did. Just admit it, okay, then we can go home. It ain’t gonna happen again, is it?”

“But it didn’t happen in the first place.”

“Okay. I believe you.” And Bro glanced back over his shoulder at the police officer. “He didn’t do it. I believe him. How much did it cost? I’ll pay for it, whatever makes this go away.”

“It was fifty dollars.”

“Jeez. A CD costs fifty fucking bucks? Who the hell buys that shit? Okay, okay, alright. Look, we’ll pay for it, but he didn’t steal shit. Did you even recover the CD?”

“Yes, we did.”

Bro sighed again, getting to his feet. “So how do you know he did it, huh?”

“Like I said, they caught him on camera trying to leave the shop.”

“But did he leave?”

“No, but he was _trying _to.”

“So… he never left, you have the CD… what the fuck’s the problem?”

The other officer finally spoke up, running a hand through her hair. “The problem is that he attempted to commit a crime, Mr. Strider.”

“I didn’t!” Dave protested, getting to his feet, because holy shit this had gone on long enough. “I was just looking at it, and I kinda walk around sometimes when I read things, and it had a manual, and I really wanted it, but I didn’t have the money, so I was gonna go put it back and then the guy at the store started yelling at me and he called 911!”

“Look… David, right?”

“It’s _Dave_.”

“Sorry. Dave. Look, Dave, you tried to steal it.”

“Hey, stop tryna gaslight my brother.”

The first officer raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing.

“Is Dave under arrest?” Bro asked, planting his hands on his fists. Dave stared at some scuff marks on the ground, ink spills and gum plastered to the feet of chairs. “Because if not, I can take him home. He didn’t have it on him. The person there yelled at him and called 911 without even asking if he meant to. Dave’s eleven, you really think he can steal a fucking _computer game _and get away with it?”

“Well,” said the first officer, frowning at them both, “he _is _related to you.”

And Bro proceeded to punch the police officer. Which would lead to him staying the night in jail for assaulting an officer, while Dave stayed with a neighbor, who had way too many cats and smelled like marmalade. This would lead to a court hearing, discussions of custody, and finally, Bro taking court-mandated anger management courses. Not that Bro knew that when he punched the officer, who Dave would someday learn was an old college classmate of his.

All _he _knew was that he was protecting his kid.

And all Dave knew was that his brother was the coolest person in the world.

* * *

“This is all my fault,” Dave hissed, kicking over a trash can. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t…”

John sighed, probably because he’d already heard these excuses enough times. It was Dave’s fault because he’d kissed John the night before, stayed over instead of going home. It was Dave’s fault because they’d been talking about him staying _right _before he’d tried going home, which meant he’d jinxed it. It was Dave’s fault because -

Dave sighed, and slumped down on the closest bench, head in hands, bundled up in his own jacket and one of John’s. It was nice, really, it really was, warm and nice and comfortable, and it smelled like John did, all nice and warm and good. That was the only thing keeping him from breaking out into tears. “I should’ve just pushed on going home, or…”

“Look, hey… it’s not your fault, Dave.” John sat down next to him, eyebrows knit together as he reached over, put a hand on Dave’s shoulder. Dave couldn’t bring himself to shove him away, shrug him off, anything. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not, ‘cause if -”

John wrapped one arm around Dave’s shoulders, pulled him close. “It’s okay. It is. We can figure something out, ok? I know it seems really…”

“No, we’re not gonna ‘figure something out’, John.” And Dave pulled away, getting to his feet, ignoring the pitifully sympathetic look on John’s face, the weak smile and deep sigh and awkward way he leaned closer. He didn’t deserve sympathy, he’d fucked this up, and now he’d…

He’d never see Bro again.

John shook his head, and reached over, but Dave took a short step back. “Dave, just… try listening to me, okay? I’ve got an idea, I know someone we can talk to, if you’ll just…”

“Just, what? Shut up for a second? Jeez, Egbert, maybe try recognizing that this is my goddamn fault and I fucked shit up? I messed things up, ‘cause I was…” An idiot. An idiot, who’d let infatuation take him over, get him way in over his head with how he felt about John. He felt like the dumbass who’d first mistaken Stevia for sugar and put it in his coffee only to find out it tasted like garbage and had to toss out the coffee. He was a fucking idiot who’d let his heart, and his dick, lead him to… here. “This is my fault!”

When he’d first realized, he’d spent a few minutes sitting there, collapsed on the itchy carpeted floor, trying to figure out what the fuck had gone wrong. He’d sat there struggling not to cry even more than he already had, voice strangled when he _had _attempted at words. They’d spent twenty minutes trying every book on the shelf, not just the magic books. They’d spent twenty minutes trying to get the shelf to slide open. But it hadn’t, and Dave was trapped here, so, so far from home, and the chances of him ever seeing Bro again… they were dissipating with every second that passed, and he couldn’t breathe.

And now, they were standing out in the cold, outside the bookstore, and Dave couldn’t find words to figure out what to say to himself, say to John, to anyone. Had he just gone missing, as far as Bro knew? Maybe Bro figured he’d gotten himself killed out in those woods, spending all day searching for bones. Maybe he’d run off, to go start a new life somewhere else.

He’d threatened that a few times, when he was a kid. Told Bro he hated him. That he didn’t want a big brother. That he wanted to run away and move to California or New York or something. Well, he’d gotten that wish down, years too late!

“I really don’t think it’s your fault…”

Dave turned, looking over to see John, his entire body illuminated by a store front’s Christmas decorations. Mid-November, but already decorated for the holidays. John looked like a fucking _angel_, halo and wings included in the package, his mouth pressed in a thin line that forced Dave to resist the urge to kiss that frown off him.

“Then who’s fault is it?”

“Well,” said John, rubbing the back of his neck, “I think it’s kinda mine? It’s a really, really long story, but when I was a kid… my dad told me this bedtime story about this prince named John who found a doorway behind a bookshelf in his library. And he went through it and got to meet a blond boy, named, uh, Sprite… ‘cause it was my favorite soda, heh.”

Dave glared at him. It was a _very _clumsy glare. “Get to the point.”

“Well, they spent a week together, seeing each other every day, and then… one day, Prince John couldn’t open the doorway again. It was just gone, and he never saw him ever again. But I got upset, and I said it wasn’t fair, and my dad changed it, and said… jeez, I can’t remember, I’m sorry.” John grabbed Dave’s arm. He didn’t have the energy to pull away. “_But_, I think we can talk to Rose, and I think she can help. I really do.”

“Why?”

“She’s… look, I can tell you don’t believe in tarot, or magick, or whatever, but… she really does have some kinda gift.”

"You're serious," Dave said, blinking at John in an attempt to figure out if he was or wasn't secretly joking. All signs pointed to not, so rev the engines and get as far away from whacked up magic-ville ASAP. "Sure, call me a skeptic, unbeliever, whatever, but I'm _smart_, John, I ain't dumb."

"It's not about if you're smart or dumb!”

He still didn’t believe him, and he didn’t really want to, because it made no sense, and as downright devastated as he was, there was no way someone who used tarot and pendants and runes and numerology, that kind of shit, could somehow fix _this_, as much as he’d love to believe she could - but it made no sense, and in no world would he expect a fix through that.

The door was closed.

And he was stuck here, and there was no chance of getting home. Unless he could somehow jimmy the door open, or maybe if he waited a day or two and tried again - but based on what John had said, that seemed impossible… if this really was some sort of fairytale come to life.

“Fine,” he said, furrowing his brows, “we can try it. We can do it your way, or whatever.”

John grinned at him, the first real smile he’d seen since they’d tried to open up the door… and failed, horrendously. “I think she can help, just give it a shot, okay?”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll, uh, _we _can give it a shot.”

John nodded, like he’d sort of expected that exact answer. Dave wouldn’t have been surprised to find out he had expected those literal words, but he also wouldn’t be surprised to find out he hadn’t. He just shrugged in return, starting down the street.

“Uh… you’re going the wrong way.”

Dave turned to see John jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “What?”

“Rose’s shop is _this _way.”

Ugh. Dave turned on his heels and followed suit.

* * *

His head felt like it’d been split down the middle, but the narrow aisles and glinting antiques and rusted metals weirdly seemed to help. _Lilith in Starlight_’s was probably the last place Dave wanted to be, but something about the mix-matched china cups and handmade rugs screamed _comfort_, and not _ouch_, or anything else under negative in the thesaurus. It felt less like somebody’s shop and almost like home, which he’d never say out loud.

Especially not with how pitifully Rose was looking at him, like he was a bug she’d accidentally squashed, guts spilling out over the frost-blue carpet.

They followed Rose into the back, and Rose pushed open the curtains, revealing an already lit up room. Two women sat at a little seating area, plush chairs pushed into one corner, tarot cards splayed across a colorful glass table. One of the women looked almost like an older version of Rose - a dirty blond pixie cut pushed out of her face with a black headband, tan skin and a few moles on her bare shoulders, and eyes the color of wine and a pair of cat-style glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. The other had curly peach blond hair, roughly Rose’s shade, with dark pink lip gloss and a deep purple dress with a neckline that swooped low enough to show off her seriously huge -

“Dave, this is my mother, and my aunt, Briallen.” Rose nudged Dave’s side with her elbow, and he swallowed a yelp in annoyance, glaring at her from behind his shades.

Rose’s mom - apparently the curly-haired knockout (jeez, Dave, get ahold of yourself) - grinned over at the two of them, pushing her peachy curls away from her face and giving Dave a once-over. “Well, Rosie, where’ve you been hiding this one? He sure is a glass of -”

“_Mom_!”

Rose’s mom licked her lips and glanced over at Rose, impish smile toying at her very, very pink lips. “I’m Aurora Lalonde, but _you _can call me Rory, babycakes. This is my sister, Briallen, but she usually goes by Briar. She’s the borin’ one.”

Briallen - Briar, or Rose’s aunt, apparently - gave a curt nod, but Dave couldn’t exactly see her face. “I suppose you have a good reason for ruining our session, Rosalie?”

“It’s _Rose_,” said Rose, voice bristling with acid.

Dave glanced over at John, who mouthed what was either ‘long story’ or ‘I’m horny,’ but probably the first one. “Look,” said John, “it’s kind of important? We need to talk to Rose, and it’s… a matter of urgency?”

“_Oh_?” said Ror - Rose’s mom, perking up and raising her eyebrows. “Is this a _ménage à trois_, or a different thing that’s just as urgent?”

Dave’s stomach clenched (this seriously was NOT the time to imagine Rose and John, in bed, naked - not when he already felt like he was going to throw up) and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“_Mother_!” hissed Rose, covering her very, very red face with one hand, before stepping towards the two women, her face pinched. Next to her, John busied himself staring at a flyer for a music seminar, peeling off one of the tickets at the bottom, and Dave tried to count the scuffs on the wooden floor. “No, it’s a matter that requires _guidance_ from the goddess.”

The goddess? Wow, she really was a Wiccan. Presumably.

“Ah, I see. I’ll leave you three to it… Briar? Want to help me manage the front before Roxy gets here?” Rose’s mom cast another glance towards Dave, making a _call me _sign with her fingers as she got to her feet, showing off some ridiculously long legs beneath that short dress, some seriously sick high heels that probably had her at 5’11”...

He almost had to physically shake the thoughts out of his head.

Rose’s aunt gathered up the cards, putting them away in a velvet drawstring bag that almost perfectly matched the one Rose had been using a few days ago. “We can continue our reading out front. As I was saying, Aurora, I do think you’re close to finding your soulmate.”

“Oh, I _think _I already have,” Rose’s mom joked, winking at Dave, before she pushed through the curtains, Rose’s aunt close behind.

Rose herself groaned into her hands, moving towards a shelf behind the cash register. “Gods, I’m so sorry for my mother, she’s the worst. Now, let’s see… sage, we need to cleanse the area. Cinnamon, nutmeg, lemongrass… psychic powers, we’ll need chalk for a circle…” She continued mumbling to herself, words getting quieter and quieter.

She grabbed a few boxes and vials of herbs before heading back in front of the counter, pulling out a piece of purple chalk, almost snuffed to the end, drawing a pentagon across the wood, large enough that Dave figured the three of them could easily sit inside. She sprinkled salt around it, almost perfect to the shape, surrounding the pentagram with cinnamon and nutmeg and lemongrass, before holding up the sage smudge, setting it aflame, and setting it on a marble plate in the center, sitting down and ushering the other two inside.

“The _hell _are you doing?” Dave hissed, pushing his shades into his hair so she could see him glaring at her.

“Like I said, I’m cleansing the area. Come here, sit beside me.”

“_That doesn’t answer my question._”

Rose cocked an eyebrow up at him. “Dave. Just trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“She does,” murmured John, before moving to sit beside her. “I trust you, Rose.”

“I’m glad someone does.”

Rose set down five purpley-gold crystals from one of the boxes, handing two to Dave and two to John. “One on each corner. My aunt taught me this trick, helps with communication. I pray to the gods neither of you is a cynic.”

John cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, Dave…”

Dave groaned, gritting his teeth. “Fine. Whatever. If some old god or spirit or whatever will find a fucking answer, I’ll take it. I’m opening myself up to the universe, or whatever. Lemme take the fucking crystals.” He grabbed them from Rose’s hand, setting one on the two corners closest to him. “Happy?”

“Very,” said Rose, smirking at him. “Now, take my hand, each of you.”

John reached over, taking Dave’s hand, and taking Rose’s hand in the other. “Ew, your hand’s all clammy and stuff, Dave, that’s really gross.”

Dave’s teeth were probably going to grind themselves flat if he wasn’t careful, but he took Rose’s hand with the other - it was surprisingly cold, for how warm it was in this room. Rose nodded, and the lights seemed to dim around them, the smoking sage smelling closer to weed than what he expected sage to smell like.

“I call upon the Guardian of East and the element of Air to watch over this sacred circle. I call upon the Guardian of South and the element of Fire to watch over this sacred circle.” Rose’s words almost echoed through the room. “I call upon the Guardian of West and the element of Water to watch over this sacred circle, I call upon the Guardian of North and the element of Earth to watch over this sacred circle.”

Cool air washed over Dave, and he shivered, grabbing tighter at the hands in his.

“I call upon the Morrigan, patron of magic, witches, and prophecy. I offer you myself - body, mind, and soul -” and Rose’s lips curled into a frown, her hand practically clawing at Dave’s hand. He tried to pull away, but she held on tighter, and he glanced hurriedly over at John, who looked just as surprised as he felt, Rose’s eyes closing. “- in request for a simple favor: grant me an explanation as to how Dave Strider sits before you today, younger than he should be for someone in this year.”

Nothing.

“Well, _that _was anticlimactic,” Dave whispered.

And then Rose’s eyes opened, pure white, her mouth wide open… and then she fell backwards, hands pulling away from John and Dave’s, and fell to the ground, shaking.

John scooted towards her, very awkwardly, grabbing at her hand. “Rose? Rose, can you hear me? Say something if you can hear me.”

Holy shit. Dave’s first thought was ‘seizure,’ so he reached over, grabbed her hand to try and check her pulse through her wrist, because that sounded about right based on what little he knew about seizures. Rose’s eyes slammed shut, and she stilled, and the coolness that’d washed over them before seemed to retreat, pulling away from them, the lights seeming brighter.

“Oh _no_,” said John, moving behind Rose to cradle her head in his lap, “Dave, go get her mom, or something, I -”

John didn’t have to say that twice. Dave scampered to his feet as quickly as possible, because no fucking way was Rose going to go into anaphylactic shock, or whatever the hell this was. He pushed open the curtains ASAP, rushing through the aisles and almost knocking over what was probably a nigh priceless vase, or something. He slammed into the counter - literally, and it fucking hurt, knocking him to his ass. Rose’s mom and aunt looked down at him, her mom’s lipstick smeared from drinking from a glass of… grape juice? No time to think.

“Your daughter - uh, Rose -”

“Oh no… _she didn’t_.” Aurora got to her feet, grabbing Briallen by the arm. “She couldn’t have.”

“What did she do?” Briallen uttered, voice so low Dave could barely hear it, but she was already heading towards the curtains, and Dave hurried behind, as fast as his legs could carry him. God, maybe they had an epipen or something to stop this, or maybe she was just taking a really weird looking nap, or pranking, or -

They pushed back through the curtains, and there was Rose, sitting up, sipping from a water bottle, John’s arm around her shoulders.

“Oh, good. You’re here. Mother, you have some explaining to do.”

Aurora stared at her, blank-faced, mouth wide. “What?”

“I spoke with the spirits. Clearly.” Rose gestured with her free arm at the pentagon, and winced. “Allowing a goddess to host my body never is a good idea.”

“You _what_? Rose, that could kill you! You know that!” Her mom got to her knees, pushing Rose’s hair out of her face and putting a hand to her forehead. “You have a fever… dear God, Rosie…”

Rose smiled shakily at her mother. “It didn’t kill me, now did it?”

Dave slumped against the closest chair, staring at the three women (and John) fretting over Rose, who kept shrugging them off, drinking tiny sips of water and sighing when Rose’s aunt ran off to grab some crackers per her mom’s instruction. What the _fuck _had happened? He’d seen that, and that didn’t seem like some sort of ‘goddess taking control of a body,’ it just seemed like a really fucked up seizure… or maybe a demonic possession, but Rose didn’t seem like the type, and… jesus, this entire situation was fucked up. Totally fucked up beyond recognition, really, one of those scenarios you got the fuck away from as soon as you could.

But he couldn’t. Because he was fucking stuck here, and Rose was very possibly his only way to get answers as to what the fuck had happened.

Finally, Rose shakily got to her feet, before slumping down in the chair opposite Dave, who got up to leave room for Briallen to sit down, going over to stand awkwardly by John, hands shoved in his pockets. “Like I said, this needs explaining. Mom, why the hell is there a doorway to another time and place in the Leijon’s bookstore?”

Her mom’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know -”

Rose gestured absently towards Dave.

“Jesus fucking god, Rosie. You _found _it?”

“No,” said Rose, “John did. And he met Dave, who’s from 2014. Mind explaining? I hear it’s your doing.”

Rose’s mom sighed, leaning against the wall and pressing a hand to her forehead. “When I was a kid, in New York, I was… really bored, and… I wanted a friend! My mom, well, Briallen’s mom, she wasn’t a fan of us having friends outside of church… and I really wanted to get to know someone, so I found this book at the library, checked it out when my step mom wasn’t looking, took it home… and I just followed the instructions. And I just…”

“Aurora, _what did you do_?” Briallen glared at her, cussing beneath her breath. “I can’t believe this. _That’s _why you got into magick?”

“Look! I was bored, and lonely! All I did was open up a doorway, and it… took me to this hardware store in Seattle, where I met this boy my age… and we got along, we really did! I came and saw him every day, but I… I messed up, I didn’t read the fine print. The door closed, and I never saw him again. I… turned to magick, got you into it, because I had nothing else to do.”

Rose sighed. “What was the fine print?”

“If you fell in love, the door would close. Forever.”

Dave glanced over at John, who looked pretty flustered.

“Is there any way to reopen it?”

“I don’t know, Rosie.” Aurora glanced over at John, at Dave, who stared at the floor, at the little grains and marks and scuffs and every single inch across it. “I’m so sorry, Dave. I don’t think you can go home.”

Dave felt a hand on his arm, and looked up to see John grabbing at his hand. He relaxed a little at the touch, and John pressed his lips into a very, very thin line.

“Bullshit,” John said. “There’s always a way. My dad told me about this story, and in the end, things worked out. The door reopened, and -” Then John’s eyes widened. “Wait, you said you met a boy your age? I don’t suppose his name was James, was it?”

Rose’s mom looked like she’d just seen a ghost. “It was. James… uh, James Crocker.”

“Holy _shit_,” said John, eyes very, very wide, “that’s my _dad_.”

* * *

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said… I found a doorway to Texas at the bookstore, and that’s why Dave’s here. Also, Rose’s mom, Aurora Lalonde - she says she goes by Rory? She said she met you the same way. I’m pretty sure we’ve gone over this four times, Rose’s mom is in the living room right now.”

John’s dad buried his head in his hands before looking up at Dave and John. “You can’t be serious.”

“No, he’s pretty serious. He’s like, cereal. We’re talking that disgusting corn flakes shit, the kind without the sugar, that kinda cereal.” Dave sat down at the table, across from John’s dad - James - and leaned in. “Dude, she says she fell in love with you, and based on what little I know… I’m guessing you felt the same, yeah? She’s right in the other room, and she really wants to see you. Why don’t you give it a shot?”

“It’s been _years_,” James said, letting out a heavy sigh. “I was a _teenager_. We’d have nothing in common, even if it was real.”

“Maybe, maybe not. You won’t know ‘til you try. Just... give it a shot. At the very least, you’ll maybe make a friend, right?”

John squeezed Dave’s hand, conveying more messages than Dave could even hope to wonder if John knew he was sending. _Thank you, _it said, _I’m sorry this happened, but thank you. I love you._

He just squeezed John’s hand back, and hoped he got the response.

“Alright,” John’s dad said, finally, getting to his feet and adjusting his hat. “I’ll try.”

And Dave watched him walk into the other room, and heard Rose’s mom gasp, before the sound of laughter. John leaned over, and planted a kiss to Dave’s mouth, mumbling a quiet “thank you” against his lips, before Dave was lifted up and sitting on the table, arms around John’s neck.

“Wow, John,” he murmured, “didn’t know you had it in you. Your dad’s right in the other -”

John rolled his eyes, forehead against Dave’s. “Shut up and let me kiss you, Dave.”

* * *

“See,” said John’s dad - and he was sitting on the sofa right next to Rose’s mom, whose face was flushed and split apart with the largest grin Dave had ever seen, “I did go back. I opened the door, and I went into that damned garden, and… you weren’t there, Rory. But it’d been a month when I could finally get through it again. I worked at that hardware store, before it got sold to Mrs. Leijon,” he added, glancing over at John and Dave, as if the explanation would help.

It did. And also didn’t.

“Okay, so… it does reopen?” John asked, leaning forward in the chair. “After a month? So… we’ll be fine! Dave can go back in a month, and…” He ran his thumb across Dave’s palm. “And he can stay with us? Would that be okay? I mean, I guess we could get him a hotel or something…”

“If he promises to help out around the house, yes. He can stay. But what will you do afterwards? Once you go back through?”

All eyes turned to Dave.

Shit.

“I… I guess I got a while to think about that.”

“You could,” said John, “always stay, y’know? Or you could… ask your Bro to come through with you, and move here. I know it’s weird, and a longshot, and there’d be a lot of explaining to do… you’d be moving cross-state and cross-time, and I dunno how we’d explain that to him, but maybe it’d work?”

Rose’s mom nodded. “It might. Or it might just mess things up! You could stay away for the four-ish years until you reach the right time, and then come back here. Live your life in the meantime. It’d be hard, but I lived a lot longer without James in my life,” and she put an arm around James’ shoulders. He groaned. “And I ended up fine. I got married! I had Rosie! I introduced my sister to her wife, _and _they had Roxy! Well, thaaaat happened _before _I had Rosie, but details-schmetails.”

“Or…” said John’s dad. “...and this is probably the one you don’t want to hear, but it is an option. You could go through, and move on with your life. There are plenty of people out there.”

John glared at him. “Really?”

“He needs to know all of his options, John.”

John sighed, but relented, moving a little closer to Dave.

Dave pursed his lips, staring at the three hands in his lap - his, and John’s - before finally looking up at James and Aurora. Neither of ‘em looked a day over fifteen for that split second, the overhead light casting no shadows across their faces. They looked happy just to sit next to each other, like there wasn’t a place they’d rather be. “Or we could find some kinda way to break the spell.”

Aurora cleared her throat. “_If_ we break the spell, you’ll be trapped on one side, either way.”

“So? Nobody else needs to go through this.”

John grimaced, holding Dave’s hand as tightly as possible. “We can think about it, right? We have, what, a month from today? We can just go check in a few weeks, see if it’s open. And then again, until it is, and Dave can think about it until then. He doesn’t need to make a decision now, does he?”

“No, he can think about it… but you have a time limit, Dave.”

He couldn’t imagine losing Derrick.

But he also couldn’t imagine losing John, even if it’d only been less than a week since they’d first met. It really did feel like they’d known each other a lot longer. Maybe this weird spell drew two people together who were supposed to find each other… it just helped them find each other a little early.

Just like how he felt he’d recognized Rose.

“Well,” said Dave getting to his feet, “I’m fucking starving, so I’ll start thinking about it after that. We can make a pros and cons list to each option, or somethin’, I dunno. John’s got homework to do, and I want food, and I also want a fucking shower.”

“W - you already had one,” said John.

John’s dad raised an eyebrow, like he knew what was left unsaid. Maybe he did. “Well, the upstairs bathroom is free to use. I can set up the guest room for you… unless you’d rather sleep in John’s room…?”

“The guest room’s fine!” John blurted out, eyes wide behind his glasses. “He can sleep in the guest room! I’m sure he’ll want time to himself!”

“Are you sure?” his dad asked, giving him a look that John could clearly read, but Dave couldn’t. Maybe it was a family thing, like how he always knew when Bro was getting ready to punch a wall. Though, that usually meant he was raising his fist and yelling. Whatever.

“Yes! I’m sure! Really! Right, Dave?”

Dave just nodded. “Yeah, guest bedroom’s fine.”

“I’ll help you set it up! C’mon, Dad, let’s let Dave take his shower.”

Rose’s mom snickered as John pulled his dad upstairs, and she smiled at Dave with the sort of knowing smile that made Dave blush. “Welp, I guess that means I can’t flirt with you, huh? You’re still adorable, but thinking ‘bout it… you’re too young for me, it wouldn’t work out! Sorry, hon.”

“Uh,” said Dave, “no worries?”

“Now… you’re about the right age for my daughter… so if you and John don’t work out, hit her up, why don’t you? Y’got some chemistry there, kiddo.” She winked at him, and got to her feet. “I’mma go figure out how the fuck this kitchen works, see if I can get some tea. It’s getting late, and I’m probably crashing on the couch… ‘less James wants me in his bed, but don’t tell him I said that. You’re under my strict confidence, babe.”

“Uh… I won’t tell him.”

“You’re a sweet kid,” she said, and reached over, patting his cheek. “Things’ll work out for you and John, I just know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH SO lots of infodumping I hope you enjoyed that Wild Ride.


	7. it’s noon, that means we’re inconsolable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yes sorry for the angst in this chapter. there's two separate scenes of smut. 
> 
> TO SKIP THOSE: '“Do birds have _wings_? Yeah, it’s okay, don’t stop.”' is the first one, and it ends at '“Arctic.”'
> 
> Second one starts @ 'John smiled, slowly pulling down his own pants and underwear. “Not as incredible as you.”' and ends at 'When he finally came down, he pulled out, tied up the condom and tossed it in the trash, before flopping down on the bed, curling around Dave. Dave was shaking, and John pulled him on top of him, rubbing Dave’s back and pressing kisses to his shoulders.'

Once upon a time, in a country (aka, America), there lived a young boy, born of a lot of mixed blood, raised in the suburbs of Seattle itself, surrounded by love and joy and freedom. He was the youngest of four children, blessed upon his April birth, crowned in roses and violets and Queen Anne’s lace. John Egbert, beloved of his family.

As John grew older, he became curious of his city, and started with exploring the local stores. It was a decent-sized city, beautiful to behold, filled with many streets and shops and places to eat. John had a lot to explore, and it took him years to discover every crack and crevice, not that he really could.

In his eighteenth year, John decided to go to the bookstore and do his homework. Afterwards, he decided to pick up a book on magic tricks. And when he pulled the book out of the bookshelf, in the beautiful bookstore, the shelf started to move. And when it did, it revealed a staircase, leading into darkness. John dropped the book and, curious, grabbed his flashlight and went down the steps, descending into a hallway with a single door at the very end.

John opened the door, of course - and what he saw surprised him more than anything. For, behind the door, was a forest. He almost dropped his flashlight, but instead, he picked it up, and closed the door behind him. When he looked back, the door was part of a tree, barely visible. And all he could see was the forest, daylight coming through the trees. He set the flashlight down and tied his scarf to the tree, so he would be able to find it later, and used his phone to check where he was.

John explored the forest for a while, until he came to a river - and there stood a boy, about his age! He had blond hair, aviator sunglasses, and a smile that could hold a million stars. His name was Dave.

John didn’t notice him at first, but once he had, he was surprised, and Dave yelled at him for intruding on the forest. John asked where they were, and the boy was confused, before telling him this was Texas. John had heard of Texas, obviously, and he spent the next twenty minutes talking to the boy, learning more about Dave. When night fell, he promised to come back the next day. And he did. And the next, and the next, for the rest of the week. They became friends, and John looked forward to meeting up with his new friend. He even brought Dave to Seattle with him.

There was just one tiny problem.

The next day, John went to the bookstore, and when he pulled out the book on magic tricks… nothing happened.

Because, little did either boy know… but they’d begun to fall in love. And this broke the spell, meaning Dave couldn’t return to Texas, and was trapped in Seattle forever and ever.

Well, a month. Maybe not literally forever.

But it felt like it.

* * *

It turned out that, as far as second dates went, _Con Air_ wasn’t the best one. Largely because Dave kept falling asleep next to John - and as nice as it was, to run his fingers through Dave’s incredibly soft hair, to feel the warmth of someone’s body pressed against his, he was a little upset that Dave was missing John’s favorite movie.

Though, the longer he watched, the less it stood up to John’s original viewing… or original fifty viewings… and honestly, it wasn’t that good, so he turned it off, turning the light down a little lower, and planted a kiss on Dave’s forehead. He stirred a little, eyes flickering open.

“Y’turned off the movie?”

John nodded, taking off his glasses and setting them on his bedside table. “I wasn’t feeling it, I guess… I think I’d rather just spend this date talking to you, or something.”

“Is it a date if we didn’t leave your bedroom?”

John snickered, rubbing a hand across Dave’s back. Dave smiled against John’s other arm - the one that was very much asleep at the moment. “It’s a date if we want it to be, I think. Who cares if we never left the room?”

“Hmm… okay, fair. Whatcha wanna talk about?”

The past three days had been pretty busy for John, getting ready for midterms and spending the majority of Monday in class, but now, at least, things seemed to have settled, even if for a few hours on a Monday evening. It was weird, thinking they’d met a full week prior.

(John’s paper on Houdini had gotten a B-. Not too shabby.)

“Have you… thought about -”

Dave sat up, pressing a finger to John’s lips. “Nope. Not talking about deadlines. No can do, Mr. Egbert, I’m afraid I have no clue what you’re talkin’ about. Just… pretend that there’s no tomorrow. We just have tonight. What do you want to talk about? What do you wanna do? What’s on your bucket list?”

The weirdly pent-up, horny part of his brain went, ‘banging you.’ The… not pent up and horny part? “Y’know,” John said, “I don’t _have _a bucket list.”

Dave’s eyes widened, and he scrambled off the bed. “I’m sorry, what? You don’t? Okay, we’re fixing that. Consider this our date. Lemme find a piece of paper. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

He was already going through John’s backpack, but John didn’t have the heart to say he didn’t care if he had a bucket list, instead watching Dave pull out a pad of paper and a pen, flipping to the first empty page.

“Bungee jumping?”

Dave scrawled that down, before writing ‘John’s bucket list’ on the top in… really badly-lettered cursive, sitting back down on the bed next to John. “Okay, one: bungee jumping. What else?”

He had to think for a second. “...go to an apple orchard?”

“Keep going.”

“A scavenger hunt… I’ve always wanted to go on one…” John trailed off, thinking, before leaning over, checking the list. “Why are there hearts around my name?”

Dave shoved at his shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Aw, that’s kinda cute. I bet it’d be cool to see the Taj Mahal before I die, maybe go surfboarding, but that’d mean tropics…”

“Hey, that’s on mine too. ‘long with island hopping Greece. I found it on a bucket list website.”

“You used a _website_?”

Dave rolled his eyes, scrawling down ‘Taj Mahal’ on the paper. “Look, dude, I’m not the most creative guy ever. Mine’s like… meet Obama, find a dinosaur bone, try pizza with pineapple on it. Shit like that. It’s pretty boring, so I wanted to add some pizzazz to it.”

“You’ve _never _had pineapple pizza?”

“Bro literally always orders, and it’s always pepperoni and jalapenos. Not bad, but with pineapple pizza discourse, I’ve kinda wondered if it’s bad or good.”

“I’ve never had it either,” said John, fishing the phone out of his pocket, “let’s change that!”

* * *

"You've really _never_ been in a photo booth?"

Dave frowned, blowing a decent sized bubble of banana berry blue bubblegum as he glanced through the mall. “Why don’t you say it a little louder? Let everyone know how fuckin’ messed up I am for never being inside a photo booth, not even once. Yup, me, the guy with the photography hobby, he’s never been in a photo booth!”

“We can change that,” John snickered.

As far as he was concerned, the mall was a pretty decent place for a third date. This time, they could just hit up the food court when they were hungry, and they could wander around and get Starbucks or bubble tea while they window-shopped. Though, the guy who’d kept calling out to them from the ‘Will Fix Your Phone’ kiosk was pretty annoying, seeing as neither of them had phones that needed any fixing, but whatever.

He slid into the photo booth, gagging at the smell - someone needed to clean up in there.

“Shit, it smells like… body odor,” Dave said, pinching his nose as he sat down next to John, sticking out his tongue. It was a pretty tight fit, the two of them crammed together into a very, very small space. “I’m gonna say this doesn’t really seem worth it?”

“Shhh. It’ll be fun!” John slid a five dollar bill into the slot, and grinned when it pulled up the options. “When it says ‘smile,’ just smile. Or… make a face? I dunno. You’re a phone booth virgin, you can pick.”

“Jeez, don’t call me a virgin for anything.”

John laughed into his hand and hit the ‘start’ button on the screen, watching it count down.

5…

4…

Dave uncovered his nose, pulling a face.

2…

1…

_Smile!_

John grinned at the camera, and made bunny ears behind Dave’s head - he groaned, and the camera went off. 5… 4… Dave leaned over and grabbed John’s face and smooched him, and the camera went off again, flashing bright in the photo booth, but John barely noticed it with the hands on either side of his face, the hot mouth against his.

“Gotcha good,” Dave mumbled, pulling away, right before the booth went _smile! _and John stuck out his tongue, making the dumbest face he possibly could. Beside him, Dave laughed, burying his face in his hands, as the camera went off. He moved so he was pretty much sitting on John’s lap, facing away from the camera, and kissed him hard enough John was pretty sure the world could’ve ended and he wouldn’t care, Dave’s hands in John’s hair and John’s sitting on his waist, pulling him as close as possible.

When Dave pulled away, the flash behind them illuminated him hard enough he looked like the sun, and he grinned, a little dopey. They climbed out of the booth together, John fixing his hair, and grabbed the prints from the printer, holding one up to the light.

John smiling wide, making bunny ears, and Dave rolling his eyes. Them, kissing. John, making a crazy bug-eyed face while Dave covered his face. And then, just the back of Dave’s head, and John’s hands in his hair, and a bit of John’s own face.

Dave glanced over his shoulder. “We look dumb.”

“Maybe,” said John, “but _I_ think it’s a keeper.”

* * *

It’d been a full week since Dave had pretty much moved into the guest room, not that he really ever stayed in it. However, there were perks to the guest room: namely, that Dave’s bed was very comfortable, and pinning Dave against burgundy sheets was a very pretty sight, especially while he squirmed beneath John, panting a little as he tried to grind up against John’s hips.

“You can’t just -” Dave pulled John’s hips down against his. “- come around carryin’ this thing you got in your pocket and _not _use it. Y’got a permit for that weapon of ass destruction?”

“That’s horrible,” John murmured, pressing his mouth into the crook of Dave’s neck.

Dave let out a pretty dang wanton noise that John filed into his memory for later, arching his back against the sheets. “Shit, dude. Seriously.”

“Maybe I just wanna kiss you.”

“That’s fine, I mean, I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want, but… holy _shit _do I really want you to do something. Or me to do something. I’m not picky.”

John trailed a finger down Dave’s shirt, before hiking it up to his neck, pressing kisses across the flesh, tracing every crevice with his tongue. Dave tasted like sweat, a little salty, but not too bad. “Is this okay?”

“Do birds have _wings_? Yeah, it’s okay, don’t stop.”

“Stop? Okay, I can do that.” He pulled back, moving to pull the shirt back down.

Dave groaned, turning his head against the pillow. “I said don’t stop, you dumbass.”

“That’s no way to talk to the guy who’s kissing you.”

“You’re a tease, Egbert.”

John grinned, before moving back down, unzipping Dave’s jeans, pulling them down his legs while Dave wiggled his hips and ass. Dave’s dick was, apparently, very hard, and making a wet spot at the front of his boxers (apparently he didn’t _just _wear briefs.) “Cute,” John said, grinning down at Dave, before pulling down the boxers too.

Dave let out a breathy sigh, licking his lips. “Please, just…”

“Just what?”

“Dunno. Whatever you wanna do.”

John nodded, pressing the tip of his thumb against the head of Dave’s dick, watching Dave’s hips go very, very still. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.”

He wrapped a hand around Dave’s dick, and Dave let out the sweetest little noise. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm.”

John leaned down, pressing his lips where his thumb had been just a second ago, looking up to gauge Dave’s reaction. Apparently, said reaction was to turn very, very red. He sort of looked like a computer short-circuiting. “Is this okay?” John asked, keeping his hand around the flesh - it was really warm, and when he moved his fingers, Dave kept letting out little whines.

“Shit, yeah. I mean, you… sure you wanna…”

John responded by wrapping his mouth around the head of Dave’s dick.

It… didn’t really have any specific taste, it was about the same as sticking Dave’s thumb in his mouth (or what he assumed Dave’s thumb tasted like), though it did smell a little weird. The precum, however, did taste how he’d expected it to, a little salty, but mostly not like anything in particular. It did look a little bubbly, weirdly enough, when he pulled back, wiping off his mouth. But hey, whatever. Dicks were weird. He had one, he was used to it.

Dave groaned, clenching his fists into the sheets. “That all? I mean, s’fine if it is, just lemme know if so, ‘cause I can just jerk off in the shower or something.”

“I’m not done,” John said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t have a lot of experience with… well, penises, okay? I’m trying to get used to it. It’s… really big.”

Okay, it was probably average, from what he knew, but it _felt _huge in his mouth. It was thicker than it was long, which was supposed to be good, or something.

Dave’s face reddened even more, if that was even possible. “Um.”

John giggled, and lowered his head back down, taking Dave back into his mouth, going a little farther this time. He had all the control here. He was the one in control, which was pretty obvious when he attempted to meet Dave’s eyes, only for Dave to have his eyes closed and his head tilted back on the pillow.

“_Shit_, John.”

John didn't know much, but he knew what he liked - a little tongue, no teeth, etc. His tongue, swirling across skin, using his lips and his hands. Either way, Dave was mumbling out enough praises and cuss words that at least it was being received well - each ‘fuck’ and ‘God, John’ was met with John curling his fingers a little more, kind of actually getting into the whole giving oral thing.

Dave barely gave him a warning before his hips tilted up a few times and something hot hit the back of John’s throat. He pulled away as quickly as possible, getting met with sticky globs of cum on his face and glasses. Ew.

Dave looked like he was having a revelation, before his gaze refocused and his eyes widened. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry, John, I -” He pulled off his shirt and leaned over, wiping the cum off John’s face with the hem. “I am so sorry.”

John giggled. “I guess I was good?”

“Uhh… I don’t actually have anyone to compare you to,” Dave admitted, before covering his face. “God. I wasn’t planning on telling you that. Here’s your ‘Dave’s a virgin’ notice, so like, pack it up or whatever.”

John pulled Dave’s hands away from his face. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin, silly.”

“Yeah? ‘cause most people do, I mean, aside from like, a couple handjobs, some rutting here and there… I just, I’m fucking inexperienced, okay?”

“Like I said, I don’t care if you’re a virgin.” John scooted around, pulling his glasses off, and cupped Dave’s head in his hands, pulling him into a cuddle. “I’m not just here for sexy stuff, okay?”

“Okay,” Dave mumbled, then glanced between them. “Do you uh… need help with that?”

John blinked, before remembering the fact that his own dick was pretty hard. “Only if you want to.”

“Yeah, well, let’s break my oral virginity, that cool with you?”

“Arctic.”

* * *

By mid-week two, it was getting obvious that Dave was pretty cooped up in the house, even with all of their outings. He kept re-cleaning the entire kitchen. Well, ‘re-cleaning’ would be the right word if it was actually dirty, but it wasn’t. In fact, when John got home from class on Thursday, the entire house was spick-and-span, dusted and vacuumed and cleaned thoroughly.

“I didn’t know you knew how to vacuum,” John said, upon finding Dave wiping down the counters (which actually were dirty this time), before sniffing the air. “What’s that smell?”

“Dude! That’s rude. Of course I know how to vacuum. Also, uh, I burnt a shit ton of cookies, but your dad said I could bake some frozen dough you had, if I followed the instructions. I just… went and took a shower and forgot they were in there?”

“...you forgot?”

“Look, I rarely fucking use an oven, John.”

John sighed, shrugging off his backpack and his jacket. “Did you at least turn the oven off?”

“Uhh,” and Dave glanced over at the oven, taking a sidestep over and… turning the oven off, “yes?”

“_Seriously_?”

“We barely ever fucking use our oven! I’m serious.”

“Ugh…” John sighed. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

Dave swallowed, very visibly. “I... don’t think there’s any more hot water.”

“_Jesus Christ,_ how _long _were you in there?”

“Uhh.”

John wanted to bang his face into the closest wall, but okay. He could deal with that. He grabbed his backpack and headed up the stairs, closing his bedroom door behind him, and slammed down on his bed, groaning into his pillow.

* * *

“Chinese food is spectacular,” said Rose, leaning against Jade in the booth, picking at the inside of an eggroll with one finger. Beneath the reddish lights of the restaurant, both of them looked like they were hanging out at a nightclub instead of at the Lucky Wok, their go-to hang out spot since high school. “I, for one, think there’s nothing better than some rice, eggrolls, and dumplings.”

“Uh,” said Jade, frowning. “General Tso’s chicken?”

“Hmm. You’re right.”

John used his fork to mix around his kung pao chicken, ignoring the looks from Rose and Jade. He just couldn't bring himself to eat - they had a _week _before Dave was gone, and it felt like half the time, being in such close quarters, they couldn’t help but argue a little. First his mess up with the kitchen, then somehow managing to get a virus on John’s laptop, then spilling apple juice on his homework… John felt like he was fit to burst, even if it wasn’t actually that much arguing. He knew Dave was stressed - so was he! - but it didn’t help.

“John? You’re not as present as usual,” Rose said, leaning in on her elbows and cocking a brow. “Is it everything with… your friend?”

“You mean Dave?” Jade asked, tilting her head. She always looked like an overeager puppy when she did that. “John told me everything about what happened. I think it’s kinda romantic! Plus, Dave’s pretty cute, and I think he’s really sweet. He helped me identify some bones in my anatomy homework.”

Rose laughed, a musical sound, before looking back at John. “You’re worried he’ll choose to stay behind for good, aren’t you.”

“Yeah.”

She sighed in response. “Whatever happens, we’re here for you.”

“You know, you never did explain what you… heard. Or saw?” John poked his fork into a piece of chicken, taking a bite and frowning at how cold it’d gotten. “Whatever the goddess showed you, I mean.”

“Ah, yes. I only saw flashes - I can barely remember it now… I don’t think I’m as receptive as I was when I was a child. I used to commune with ghosts,” she said, and Jade’s eyes widened behind her glasses. “Remember Aradia?”

Jade nodded. “Your girlfriend when you were… eleven?”

“Yes. Well, she was a ghost. That’s why you never met her.”

“I always thought she was fake,” John said, frowning into the chicken. “Jake had a fake girlfriend for a while, when he was fourteen, her name was Claire. I think. They were gonna get married, have two kids, blah, blah, blah.”

“Oh,” said Jade, “she wasn’t fake, she was just scamming him.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she was a catfish! He went to go meet up with her and she bailed on him, then blocked her across media.”

“Wow, that’s weird,” he replied.

Rose snorted. “It was karmic, I’m sure. Retribution for him eventually dating Aranea. You know, my mother saw her at Target a few days ago? She was buying a pregnancy test.”

Jade gasped. “_Really_?”

“Mhm. My mother was behind her in checkout, only recognized her because of that sapphire-studded cross necklace she’s always wearing. That, and the hair. Blue streaks are _not _a good look with that complexion, Kanaya’s been complaining to me for weeks about it.”

“I think she looks good,” Jade said, shrugging. “I don’t like how many pet spiders she has, it’s a bit creepy.”

“Isn’t it eight?” John asked.

Rose took a sip from her Sprite. “Nine now, I think. But, back to our original subject: what _is _your plan with Dave? The original was to tempt him to stay via introducing him to your family, and potentially kissing him, but I assume that went awry.”

John blushed - largely because it HAD gone awry, and he’d yet to mention the more… erotic details to either of them, and he told Jade and Rose pretty much everything. Jade really was pretty much his sister, and Rose… well, she was his ex girlfriend, and his best friend. “I guess.”

“So… sleep with him. Bang his brains out. That’ll convince him to stay.”

That blush felt a lot hotter. “Ew, that’s gross, Rose.”

“Yeah,” said Jade, “that’s gross!”

“Alright, _I’ll _bang his brains out.”

“Rose,” Jade hissed, “that’s not okay, he’s with John!”

“A little polyamory never hurt anyone, neither did a consensual dalliance here and there. It’s helped me and Kanaya. She spent the weekend with Meenah Peixes, and I slept with Karkat a few months ago. I don’t have plans to sleep with him again, his eating out technique is horrendous.”

John felt really, really out of place all of a sudden. “Can we not discuss this?”

Rose reached over, took his hand across the table. “My apologies. I won’t reference our friends’ sex lives, especially not their sex lives with me, while at the Lucky Wok.”

“Thank you.”

“Though… polyamory might help, just saying. And I _am _open to a fling here and there. Or maybe Jade?”

Jade stuck her tongue out. “Nope! He’s dating John. That’d be weird.”

“Ah, right, you’re cousins. I always forget there’s a… what’s the word… hesitation to do anything with a shared partner, but me and Roxy never had an issue when she was dating Kanaya. Well, before she -”

John put his head on the table, and tuned her out.

* * *

“Look,” said Dave, “it’s three days. I have three days to think about it.”

“But shouldn’t you have decided a lot sooner?”

Dave sighed, slumping down on John’s bed. “It’s a fucking big decision, dude. This is my entire life. Do I stay in the future, do I go back? Do I come back if I go back? I could go get Bro. I could stay, and come back in like, four years. Or I could not come back, and move on with my life. That’s four-ish years of not being able to kiss anyone, hold anyone’s hands, sleep next to anyone…”

“What if,” John said, “we just don’t consider any of that… part of our relationship? If you do stay and then move to Seattle, or something?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Like… we have an open relationship! It wouldn’t be long for me at all, and you’d be able to date other people. And… if you find someone else, that’s cool too.”

Dave furrowed his brow. “But that’s not fair to you.”

“So? None of this is fair to _you_.”

“You could come with me,” Dave said, and John slid down in his chair. “You could come to the past.”

“I… my family’s here.”

“_My_ family’s there.”

“Aside from your… aside from Bro, is there anyone there you care about enough to stay?”

Dave sighed, and sat back up, planting one of John’s pillows in his lap and hugging it, face partially obscured by the fabric. “I have a few friends from college, but I doubt they’d give a shit if I disappeared off the face of the planet. Only person I actually care about enough to stay in Texas with is my bro… well, and the guy who I pay my college tuition to. We aren’t rich.”

“Well, um…”

“Look, John, _I don’t know_. I really fucking don’t. There’s too much riding on me making this one stupid decision, and I just wish someone else would make it for me, but then I’d end up blaming them for the rest of my life if shit goes south. I don’t want to blame someone for a mistake I should’ve made.”

“It’s not gonna be a mistake!”

“And what if it is, John?”

John stood, walking over to sit down on the bed next to him, and took Dave’s hands in his. He could see so much there, written across Dave’s face, a thousand things left unsaid, but all he could do was pray that this could get the message across. “I want to ask you to stay. I want to beg and plead with you, or something. But I’m not going to. It’s up to you, it’s not up to anyone else. I can’t make that decision for you. Nobody can. I want you to stay, sure! But…”

“But you’re not asking me to?”

“I mean,” John said, “I am.”

Dave laughed. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

“I want you to stay. I’m not going to ask you to, because if you stay for me, then that’s on me. And I… I really do love you, Dave. Or at least, I could love you. I am falling for you. Something. I know it doesn’t mean much… but I want you to stay. So, so much.”

“Then ask me to stay. And I will.”

“You know I can’t do that. I already have, and it…”

Dave nodded, reaching a hand up to wipe away tears John hadn’t noticed. “I think I love you, too, y’know. Just so it’s out on the table. All cards face up, or whatever.”

“When you see the future, what do you see?”

“God, this is gonna sound weird, but… you know that bucket list you made? I… I see us doing that. Is that weird?”

John chuckled, leaning in and kissing Dave’s forehead. “Not at all.”

“That’s… I mean, that’s what I’d really like. But I don’t wanna fuck up the time continium by staying here. And I don’t want to lose my Bro. Plus, I don’t have my papers and shit, and…”

“I know.”

“This is ‘19, it’d be weird if I just showed up and handed in my ID and went, ‘yup, don’t mind me, I’m actually a time traveler.’ I’d just get locked up.”

“So…”

Dave sighed. “I guess _that’s _the only option. Going. Staying there. Coming back in a few years, see if… we still work together?”

“You know, I’d visit you in an asylum.”

“That means a lot to me, dude,” said Dave, climbing onto John’s lap and tossing the pillow aside. “I want it to be you. Us.”

“I do, too.”

“Can we just… pretend it is? For a bit?”

John nodded, and ignored the tears sparking at his eyes. “Of course.”

“I… I dunno how to say this, but… I want you to… y’know. Be my first, or whatever porn star shit a virgin would say to the guy he loves.” Dave pressed his forehead against John’s. “I don’t want it to be someone else.”

John realized with a very heavy heart that he didn’t want it to be anyone else, either. “Okay. We can. Now, or... do you want to wait?”

“Kinda wanna get it over with.”

“M’kay,” John said, “just lemme grab a condom and lube and stuff, I don’t want it to suck or something.”

“Yeah,” Dave snickered, “that’d suck. For me. Not necessarily you. But I’m sure you’ll do a great job, just as an FYI.”

He moved off of John, pulling his t-shirt off and awkwardly rubbing at one arm while John grabbed his bag of toys (well, one toy, and condoms and lube) out from under his bed, tossing it onto a pillow. He reached over, pulled Dave off the bed, so they were standing, as close as could be considering height differences, and helped Dave out of his pants. Dave let out a giggle, and reached over, John raising his arms as Dave pulled off his top.

“You’re incredible, y’know that, right?”

John smiled, slowly pulling down his own pants and underwear. “Not as incredible as you.”

“Don’t ‘no you’ me, dude.”

John grabbed the bag, opening it up and pulling out the bottle of lube. “I dunno how to do this best, so like… what do you think?”

Dave laughed hard enough that John could see his stomach shaking, before getting on his hands and knees, ass up towards John, his face half in one of John’s pillows. “This work?” he asked, voice muffled.

“Uhh… sure,” John said, squeezing some lube onto his fingers. Start with one. That sounded about right. He needed to work Dave open enough to fit in there, right? Yeah. He slowly pushed a finger through the tight rings of muscle, and Dave winced into the pillow.

Was he supposed to wiggle it? That sounded right. He tried wiggling it, before pulling it out and applying some lube to two fingers instead, pushing those inside.

“God, that feels so fucking weird,” Dave mumbled.

“Is it bad?”

“Nah. I mean, it’s just weird. Keep going?”

John nodded, not that Dave could see it. He tried massaging the inside of Dave’s - well, his asshole, he guessed, which didn’t really help how alien this felt. Hell, Dave’s dick wasn’t even hard, just hanging between his thighs. Hmm. Maybe… maybe he just needed something to get him going. “You’re really tight, Dave.”

Dave let out an audible gulp.

“I can’t _wait _to feel you around my dick,” John murmured, pulling his fingers out and working a third into the mix. “I wonder how much noise you’re gonna make.”

Dirty talk seemed to be helping, because Dave’s dick perked up at that, and John grinned a little.

“Why don’t you turn around and face me? I want to see you.”

He retracted his fingers, and Dave turned around, laying on his back, using his legs to keep his hips off the ground enough for John to push his fingers back inside. “Shit, John,” he mumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes. The tips of John’s fingers pressed against something hard, tissue that didn’t feel like the rest, and Dave visibly gritted his teeth, his hips grinding down onto John’s fingers.

“Oh, dang.” What was John supposed to say in response to _that_? His own dick was starting to seriously perk up in interest. “Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers, that’s really cute.”

Dave _moaned_ at that, covering his mouth instead of his eyes. He was pink from his ears to his shoulders, and it was adorable. “Aw, shit, just fuck me already, please? I can’t take this.”

“I think I’m supposed to do this for like, ten minutes? It’s only been… six or seven.”

“Seven’s enough. Probably.”

“You’re _really _tight.” John rubbed his fingers right up against that spot, which was probably Dave’s prostate if the thrusting of his hips was saying anything. “Are you sure you can take my dick?”

“Look, at this point, I don’t care, please.”

Dave’s dick was seriously leaking precum, and John pulled his fingers out, wiping them off on the sheets (he could do a load of laundry later), and carefully tore open a condom wrapper. He took a little more time than necessary to roll it up over his dick, cover himself with lube and align himself with Dave’s hole, straddling him missionary style, but the only person who really seemed to mind was Dave.

Dave, who was squirming against the sheets, clutching at them, his dick flushed as pink as his face. Dave, who looked like a Renaissance painting, his hair mussed up and freckles all over his skin, his dick nestled against his stomach. He looked gorgeous, and John couldn’t imagine anyone better being in his place, even if he tried.

He placed his hands on either side of Dave’s legs, keeping them apart, and very slowly pressed inside. Dave’s face clenched together, and that was just with the head of John’s dick inside of him, pressing him open enough that John was pretty sure he could push inside a little.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

Dave’s legs curled around him, pulling him closer and pushing him in a little deeper. He looked scared, and also incredibly turned on based on how much precum was pooling on his stomach, but when John pressed a hand to the side of Dave’s face, he leaned into it, letting out a shaky gasp. “Yeah,” he breathed out, “just… go slow?”

Slow? He could do slow, even if his brain was screaming to go faster. He’d gone down on Dave. Dave had gone down on him, several times. They’d given each other handjobs, frotted against each other, but this… it actually felt real.

It felt really, really real.

He could go slow.

He gave a shallow thrust inside, and Dave winced, but visibly relaxed after a second, licking his lips awkwardly. “That feels, uh, right. Right there.”

John wasn’t even that deep inside him, but that was fine, not like he needed to bottom out. He pulled out a little, then thrust back in, creating a rhythm with his hips. It took about a minute before Dave was straight up mewling, reaching a hand to cup his dick and jerk himself off. Each thrust seemed to make Dave’s reactions better, until he was using his legs to pull John in close enough that he had one hand in John’s hair and the other digging into John’s waist, shallow thrusts becoming less and less shallow.

“Shit, John, dunno if…”

“It’s okay,” John murmured, leaning his forehead against Dave’s. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You feel so good around me, you know that, right?”

Dave nodded, hands splayed out across John’s back. “I love you.”

John swallowed. “I love you, too, Dave.” He gave a less experimental thrust, and Dave keened, throwing his head back against the pillows. “It’s okay if you cum, I’m not gonna judge you, okay?”

He could _barely _talk properly, but he was managing for Dave. He had to, because Dave needed it way more than he was letting on, and John…

He really did love him.

Dave finished with a shout (he almost looked like an ahegao picture), his eyes rolling back in his head and his nails digging into John’s shoulders, and John rode it out, thrusting into him, the knot in his stomach starting to unravel. He could finally focus on that, on the heat twisting in his gut, and then he came, the world going static, his hips working overtime without him needing to think.

When he finally came down, he pulled out, tied up the condom and tossed it in the trash, before flopping down on the bed, curling around Dave. Dave was shaking, and John pulled him on top of him, rubbing Dave’s back and pressing kisses to his shoulders.

“You okay?” he mumbled against Dave’s skin.

Dave nodded, voice stuttery when he finally spoke. “That was… wow.”

“Good, or bad?”

“Uh… really good.”

John snickered, and nipped at Dave’s earlobe. Dave buried his face in John’s shoulder, sighing sweetly. “I’m glad. I… I really do love you, Dave.”

“I love you, too,” came the muffled reply.

He wanted to beg him to stay, to not go, to stay here, with him.

But Dave had made up his mind, and all John could do was hold onto the warmth while it lasted.

* * *

The bookstore was pretty packed when they got there. Both Meulin and Nepeta were at the front, helping people with their purchases, and neither looked up when Dave and John came in, heading straight towards the back, fingers intertwined. John just couldn’t bring himself to let go.

They’d spent the night the same as the past three - in bed, attempting to ignore what was coming. They’d fucked a few more times (or… well, it felt more like making love, but every time John said that, Dave rolled his eyes or made a gagging motion), each attempt better than the last. When they weren’t holding hands, or staying as close as possible, John was ignoring the homework he really needed to do, or pretending that this wasn’t about to happen.

Dave pulled out the book on magic tricks, and the shelf slid open.

“So,” he said, leaning against the shelf next to it, not letting go of John’s hand, “I guess this is goodbye?”

“Yeah,” John mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. “For now. Right? You’re coming back?”

“‘Course I’m gonna come back, John. I’ll… I’ll try to be here today, okay? I’ll… try to meet you here. I promise I will. I’ll be back before you know it.” He leaned in, kissed John one last time. 

John pulled back, spending as long as he could studying every inch of Dave’s face, every freckle and scar, the eyelashes shading his eyes. He was beautiful, and John wanted to make sure he had him memorized, wanted to make sure he could picture him without a photo, the way his hair fell in wisps of blond in front of his face, how his eyebrows furrowed, how his smile crooked and made dimples in his cheeks. His lips, his nose, his eyes. Everything.

But he couldn’t stay.

Dave pulled away, and smiled, leaning in, and mumbled, “You’ll see me soon.”

“But you won’t see me.”

“Nah, I will. I’ll walk through that door -” and he gestured towards the front. “- and you’ll be like, ‘aw shit, it’s him, but he’s older, and scruffy, and super hot.’”

“You don’t have to come back, you don’t… you don’t gotta wait for me.”

“Dude, is it waiting if I’m gonna come back for you?” Dave pressed a thumb to the side of John’s face. “Seriously, you have a fucking bomb dick, why wouldn’t I come back?”

John almost laughed, but he couldn’t bring himself to. “Because you’ve found someone else.”

“Yeah, but Aurora and your dad, they found each other again. They both got married, but they still loved each other afterwards. Obviously, you’re your dad in this scenario, because, uh, sorry, but he’s really hot. Total DILF. Were I not in love with you…”

John whapped his shoulder. “My dad’s not a DILF!”

“Oh, no, he totally is, dude,” and Dave gave him a smile that could melt snow, before kissing him again (so maybe that hadn’t been the last time), and pulling away, stepping inside the bookshelf, and closing the door behind him.

* * *

The thing was that John really didn’t want to miss Dave walking through the front door, so he sat in the closest chair to the front, staring at the door, for two whole hours before he finally got tired and grabbed some food. Melisande’s more expensive sandwiches turned out to be really good, especially the grilled cheese with tomato soup - which John scarfed down in fifteen minutes, before he also downed an iced mocha, and then a vanilla milkshake from the ice cream parlor next door. Apparently, they had _really _good milkshakes, and John mentally jotted down to come back to that place again later.

Hopefully with Dave.

After four hours of sitting in the bookstore, he was starting to get really, really tired of waiting. John picked up a YA book and read it cover-to-cover, almost getting immersed in the interactions between two childhood sweethearts overthrowing the government together, but the lovey-dovey scenes just made him wince and want to bury his face in the nearest throw pillow.

It’d been five hours.

He texted his dad to come pick him up, resigning himself to the fact that Dave wasn’t coming. He’d found someone else, he’d changed his mind, he’d… Dave had obviously stayed in Texas, and he was never going to come back. Hell, it was getting dark outside, and Dave still wasn’t here, so… he wasn’t coming.

And then, someone tapped on his shoulder, and John turned to meet a very familiar pair of ruby red eyes and a very familiar smile. He swallowed, getting to his feet.

“Hey,” said Dave. “It’s been a while.”

“I didn’t see you come through the front door,” John said.

Dave snickered. He didn’t look like he’d aged a day.

And then, upon a closer look, John realized he hadn’t.

“...you came back?”


	8. it’s more like a song.

When Dave Strider was nineteen years old, he had a revelation that plenty of people spend decades trying to figure out. This fact was that you couldn’t control your fate. It wasn’t in your hands, as much as you wanted it to be. With or without you, life would go on, and things would happen, and keep happening, until the end of the universe.

It was at that moment, standing in a forest that seemed endless, a door shut behind him and the person he was pretty fucking sure was his soulmate on the other side, waiting for him, that Dave realized that it didn’t matter if he couldn’t control his own destiny.

He was going to do things his own way.

He drove back to his apartment, and explained everything to his Bro, who was pretty fucking shocked he was there - apparently, he’d been missing a week, and it’d been on the local news. Bro didn’t believe him, and it took two beers to get Bro to admit that hey, it was at least somewhat plausible.

Dave gave Bro his options, and Bro nodded.

“You should go back. Don’t leave him behind. Hell, your mom lives in Seattle, you can meet up with her. I’ll say it’ll be a few years, you’re busy with college.”

“...she does?”

And Bro nodded. “Her name’s Melisande Leijon. She might’ve gotten married, changed her last name, but… she’s out there, we kinda hooked up last year.”

“Ew.”

“Not literally. She friended me on Facebook. She’s got three kids, two girls.”

Dave had sisters.

Dave… had sisters.

Melisande.

_Leijon_.

_His sister was Nepeta?_

“So how’re you going to explain my age?”

Bro laughed. “Well, kid, you inherited my good looks. Striders don’t age. I don’t look a day over twenty five.”

And that was that. Dave got a bag together, packed all his credentials, and got all the shit he needed, gave Bro all the info needed to cancel his enrollment at Houston U. “You know you could come with me, right?”

“Kid, much as I’d love to, I got shit I gotta do. I love you,” he said, and Dave threw his arms around him, “but I can’t come with you.”

“Figured,” Dave said, and kissed his dad on the cheek. “I love you, too, Bro.”

“I’ll come up and see you in a few years.”

“Not if I see you first.”

* * *

“Dude, if you don’t stop picking at it, you’re going to fuck over your neck, and you’ll look like some scarred hillbilly.”

John groaned, adjusting his suit jacket, and leaned over, kissing Dave’s nose. “Are you sure you can’t just give me something to cover it up with?”

“And hide the boss ass hickey I gave you? No way, dude.”

“_Dave_! You know how much this whole thing means to me!”

Dave grinned at him, handing him the concealer stick from his messenger bag. “Just be careful, it’s not exactly your shade. Might actually be more noticeable than if you just flicked up your collar.”

“It’s called _popping _the collar, Dave. You should know that!”

It’d been four months since they’d first met, but in complete honesty, nothing had changed at all between them… minus the fact that John had dropped out of school and was about to debut at a jazz club playing the piano, and the fact that Dave was living with his _mom_. Who, along with her husband and stepkids, and John’s dad, and Rose’s mom, and half of the people they knew, were sitting outside, waiting for John to make his grand entrance.

Dave moved John’s tie a little. “Look. You’re gonna go out there, and you’re going to stun them, and afterwards, we’re gonna go to your place, and you’re gonna fuck my brains out, and we’re gonna get some super sick sleep, and I’m gonna take a picture of you making me breakfast in the morning.”

“Actually,” said John, flushing a little, “I want you to… fuck my brains out?”

“Aw, jeez, really? Damn, that’s a pretty big step. But seriously, get out there, stun the crowd, get paid, all that shit. I’ll see you on the other side.” Dave threw his arms around John’s shoulders, and planted a big ass smooch on his mouth. “Trust me. I’ve been hearing you practice for weeks, you’ll do great.”

“What if I don’t?”

“You will.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then Rose’ll kick your ass, and we’ll all laugh while you curl up on the floor in excruciating pain, ‘cause her heels are seriously painful.”

John laughed, like always, and nodded. “I’ll see you on the other side, then.”

Dave grabbed his hand, kissed his knuckles, and then headed out through the side door, making his way over to his seat at one of the many tables. There was Nepeta, explaining different types of soulmates to Roxy, who’s eyes were wide with awe. Roxy was holding Jane’s hand while Jane talked to Aurora Lalonde, who had a fucking huge diamond on one finger (like, seriously, James had gone all out for _that_.) They’d taken up an entire table.

And there was Dave’s mom, who really did look so much like him, from her freckles to her smile, sitting right next to Dave’s stepdad. Karkat flipped him the bird when he passed, and he sat down, right next to Rose and Jade.

“Do you think he’ll do good?” he whispered.

Rose nodded. “Of course he will.”

The spotlight flared, and shone, and the curtains on the stage opened, revealing John sitting at an electronic piano. His face was screwed up in concentration, fingers sitting right over the keys, and he glanced out over the crowd, before his eyes landed on the three of them, sitting there, Jade waving at him in excitement.

And he started playing.

Jazz music filled the bar, and everyone waited, listening, as John amped it up, fingers flying across the keys, his shoulders swaying to the music. Dave knew every song by heart - Young and Foolish by Bill Evans, Tea for Two by Art Tatum, The Lady Is a Tramp by Count Basie Orchestra… songs he’d heard a thousand times, classics that John somehow made sound good and new and clearer than bells ringing. He was fucking great at it, each song transfering perfectly into the next, and when he finished his set, he got to his feet, giving the crowd a little bow.

Applause.

So much fucking applause.

Dave, Rose, and Jade got to their feet, clapping even through the curtains closing, catching a glimpse of John’s face, wide-grinned and teary-eyed, as it closed. They hurried to the back, meeting him in the dressing room, and Dave ran at him, throwing himself into John’s arms.

John spun him around, Dave’s feet lifting off the ground, before he set him down.

“You did _wonderfully_,” Rose said, giving him a black-lipped smile. She’d actually dressed up for this, and she looked great (and so did her legs.) “That was incredible, John. You did incredibly.”

“Yeah! I loved it,” said Jade, kissing John on the cheek. “You’re so good.”

John blushed. “It’s… it’s thanks to you guys, I hope you know that.”

“Oh, we know,” Dave joked, throwing his arms around John’s neck. “We totally know. Now, I think we owe you an afterparty.”

“What?”

“Mhm, we’ve been setting it up for the past week,” said Jade excitedly. “I didn’t get this dress just to see you play!” and she gave a twirl, her green skirt flaring out like something from a swing dance. “It’s going to be _great_, trust me. Jane made the food… me and Rose did the decorations… and Dave got something together for you, but he says it’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?” John cocked a brow at him. “I’m intrigued.”

“Sure you are, babe. C’mon, we’ll be late if you don’t get your ass in gear.”

Rose leaned over. “Also, just so you know, John? The suit… suits you.”

“Dave picked it out!”

“I know. And I’m sure he’s going to take it off you in a bit, but not until after the party.”

* * *

The party was already in full swing by the time they arrived at the bookstore. It was decked to the nines; they’d gone with a jazz theme to suit John perfectly, jazz music playing over the bookstore speakers. Meulin was sitting on top of the coffee counter when Dave pushed the door open, waving at his half-sister. She waved back, dropping to her feet, and walking over. “Hey, John! Your performance was _incredible_,” and she planted a kiss on John’s cheek before turning to Dave. “He’s here, by the way.”

“Who’s here?” asked John, leaning over.

“My Bro,” Dave said, and grinned. “Where is he?”

“Oh, in the back, he’s talking to Mr. Egbert and Ms. Lalonde! I think Mom’s avoiding him, though, I saw her duck into the kitchen the moment he arrived, and she went and decorated more cupcakes than necessary afterwards.”

“Cupcakes?” John hissed. “Really? You know I hate cake.”

“Babe,” Dave said, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he walked towards the back of the store, “they’re not for you. You got an apple pie, because I love you, and know you love nothing more than pie with ice cream.”

“Hmm. You’re forgiven. For now. I can’t believe you planned, and threw, an entire party without asking me! That’s not fair.”

“You would’ve said no, let’s be honest.”

John pursed his lips. “Okay, you’re right, but still. That doesn’t make it okay.”

“It’s literally just your friends and family. Also, my family. But that kinda makes ‘em your family.”

“Does it?”

“I mean,” said Dave, “doesn’t it?”

“...is this some kinda way to propose to me?”

Dave’s face heated up. “God, no. That’s way too soon. I’m not ready for that relationship milestone, sorry. I’m just… not ready for getting married or anything.”

“Oh, thank goodness, me neither.”

Whew. At least that conversation was avoided. Thankfully, Dave’s surprise for John was _not _a proposal, which John would… obviously find out later that night, but thank fuck he didn’t think it was a proposal. They weren’t ready for that, not yet. Possibly not for a long time. Dave was twenty and John was nineteen, for fuck’s sake (though he was going to turn twenty in a few weeks.)

John grabbed a flute of champagne from Jake’s hand as they passed, taking a sip. “It’s apple flavored.”

“Yup.”

“Wow, is it all apple flavored?”

“Yup.”

“Dude! I thought this was a party for me?”

Dave grinned. “Okay, nah, there’s just apple flavored champagne.”

“Thank god. Now, where’s your Bro?”

Dave turned, frowning, and… there he was, standing next to James and Aurora, his arms crossed. He really didn’t look like he’d aged a day, minus adding a hat to the top of his head. Dave dropped his arm from around John’s shoulder and walked over, Bro’s eyes widening when he noticed him.

“Dave.”

“Holy shit,” Dave said, and threw his arms around his dad’s chest, face-planting into his pecs. “It’s been forever.”

Bro ruffled his hair. He didn’t smell like cigarette smoke. Actually, he didn’t smell like much of anything at all, he just… looked good. No circles under his eyes, no beer breath. “Nah. It’s been forever for me, kid, not for you.” He pulled back, gesturing at Aurora and James. “You met these two? They’re nice folks.”

“Yeah, that’s John’s dad and soon-to-be-step-mom.”

John waved from over Dave’s shoulder.

“So _this _is the infamous John Egbert.” Bro frowned at him. “You taking good care of my kid here? ‘Cause if I find out you’ve hurt him at all, I’ll kick your ass into Canada. And you won’t like it there.”

“Oh! No. I’m… not gonna hurt him, I promise,” John stammered, and Bro nodded, as if that was enough. “I really like Dave. And I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Good. So, how’s life been, kiddo?”

Dave rolled his eyes. “You first.”

“Well, I quit my job. Cleaned up. Went to AA meetings. Stopped smoking. Got a boyfriend.”

“Seriously?”

“Nah, no boyfriend. The rest is true, though,” and Bro leaned in, “but I did meet a guy, and he’s pretty fucking hot, and you’re going to like him when you meet him.” He pulled back. “Also, I sold the apartment. I’m moving here. Got a job lined up as a DJ and everything.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, you’re not gonna lose me again. Sorry it took me so long to get here.”

Dave felt like his stomach was going to burst with all the butterflies flitting around in there. “You’re the best, you know that, right?”

“Hell, I better be. Now,” and he turned back towards Aurora and James, “what was that about good apartment complexes?”

With a sigh, Dave grabbed John’s hand, and dragged him back through the store, John following behind like a lovestruck puppy, or something. They passed by Roxy and Jane, who were making out in a chair. By Kanaya, who was reading a book on fashion design while Jade peered over her shoulder. By Rose, giving out free tarot readings to Jake and Nepeta. By Meulin, who was talking on the phone with her boyfriend, Carlos, or whatever the fuck his name was, and waved at them as they passed.

“Okay, so,” Dave said, and pulled him into the quietest corner, “I got you something.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He dug around in his pocket, and pulled out the key. “Wanna move in with me, Egbert?”

John threw his arms around Dave’s shoulders. “Do you even have to ask?”

“I mean, I do, ‘cause it’s the right thing to do. But… I love you, and like, it’s a cheap apartment, and… it’ll be weird, sure, but…”

John cut him off with a kiss, and for a few moments, time seemed to freeze, because nothing else mattered. Nothing in the world mattered except for the feeling of John’s mouth against his, their bodies pressed together, a key in Dave’s hand. When John pulled back, he nodded. “That’s a yes, in case you hadn’t figured that out already, doofus.”

“You’re a doofus.”

“No, you are,” he said, snickering, and kissed Dave’s eyelids. “I love you so much.”

“Yeah, well, it’s on our bucket list, ain’t it?”

John grinned. “Yeah, it sure is.”

And while they were holding hands, talking about the future, everything seemed right in the world. Because it was. It was _perfect_, and there wasn’t anything in this world that could change that. This was, after all, their happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.


End file.
